THEATRICALS 

SECOND SERIES 



r 



THEATRICALS 

SECOND SERIES 

THE ALBUM THE REPROBATE 



¥" 



BY 

HENRY JAMES 



NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers 

1895 

Ail rights reserred. 



By Tranjier 

0. ^ Piib'ic Library 

^^^ 1^ 1937 



?Sa//; 



30434 

WITHDRAWN 



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One may have a lively general mistrust of the preface 
to a work of fiction and the explanation of a work of 
art, and yet recognise that an unacted play stands in 
a certain need of introduction. A play is normally 
introduced the night it is performed, and if it has not 
been performed at all the conditions there was a ques- 
tion of its meeting remain inconveniently obscure. 
-These conditions have been those very personal factors 
a manager and his company. Of a published play, 
however, it cannot exactly be said that it has not been 
performed at all ; for the disconcerted author at least — 
if, as he has wrought, the thing has arrived at adequate 
vividness — the printed book itself grows mildly theatrical, 
the frustrated effort approximately positive. Anything 
he may make use of his margin to superadd becomes 
therefore simply a substitute for the representation 
originally aimed at, the particular representation which, 
in its meagreness or its merit, would, for better or worse, 
, have spoken for itself In just the degree indeed in 
which his confidence had been qualified by that 
prospect, in just that degree may the naked text of the 
piece, dragged ashore only to stand shivering, appear 



VI THEATRICALS 

to him to plead for some argued equivalent of the 
merciful curtain that was never either to rise or to fall. 

Of both of these little experiments in theatrical 
brevity it is as true as of a pair of others lately pre- 
ceding them ^ that if they had not been conceived in 
a given emergency they would never have been con- 
ceived at all. Their brevity was what the occasion 
demanded, and there were pressing reasons why the 
author should fix his eyes on lively simplicity and 
deadly directness. If it was an hour for doing anything 
at all it was an hour for doing something elaborately 
plain. Again, of course, as with the other pieces to 
which I have alluded, the question, in the face of 
over-estimated chances, ultimately came up of whether 
the dread of supersubtlety had not weighed too much. 
It is a question that matters little now, but let none of 
the more, or even of the less, initiated blame him for 
this fine scruple, or rather for this overmastering terror, 
in any case in which such a censor may not personally 
have learnt the lesson of that bitter humiliation, that 
unrecorded anguish of the novice, the inexorable, the 
managerial " cut." Into the soul of this particular 
novice, nourished in the faith that brevity is intelligible 
only when organic, that iron had entered deep, and the 
consequent desire to make in advance, in a new hazard, 
every sacrifice that might propitiate the god was natur- 
ally not a stranger to this anxious cultivation of limits. 
The greater danger is really doubtless that when one is 
under such a discipline one may, in one's trepidation, 
transport the cultivation of limits too much to the 
^ "Theatricals: Two Comedies. 1894." 



NOTE vu 

plane of subject. To treat a " big " subject in the 
intensely summarised fashion demanded by an evening's 
traffic of the stage when the evening, freely clipped at 
each end, is reduced to two hours and a half, is a feat 
of which the difficulty looms large to a writer accus- 
tomed to tell his story in another form. The only 
writer who can regard, and can treat, such a difficulty 
as small is the writer whose early practice as well as 
his later has been in the theatrical strait-jacket. 

Let me not indeed speak of the difficulty of meeting 
the requirements of the stage as if for a writer, of what- 
ever antecedents, having any business at all datis cette 
gafcre it could be anything less than a fascination. I 
know not whether for the effective playwright the fasci- 
nation be less than for the perverted man of letters 
freshly trying his hand at an art of which, in opposition 
to his familiar art, every rule is an infraction, every 
luxury a privation and every privilege a forfeiture, so 
that he has if possible even more to unlearn than to 
learn : certain it is such a desperate adventurer promptly 
perceives that if the job were easy it would not be worth 
undertaking. It has need at every step of the dignity 
of its difficulty, and its difficulty, at every step, is of a 
sort that the innumerable undismayed are destined 
complacently never to discover. One's first practical 
demonstrations of this attachment have inevitably some- 
thing of the quality of the " exercise," a statement particu- 
larly exact when they have not been happy to the end, 
that end, I mean, of which the beginning is the tuning 
of the fiddles. On the one hand, doubtless, one should 
not publish one's exercises ; yet on the other it is the 



viii THEATRICALS 

very fact of publication that is required so to label them. 
If the unacted play, in England, be not quite hopelessly 
unacted till it is printed, so this sealing of its doom con- 
stitutes precisely the ground for an obituary notice. 

Any composition, for that matter, is an exercise 
when there has been in connection with it a meek and 
lowly review of the right ways to keep on the right side 
of a body of people collected together at a particular 
hour and having paid money — really a good round sum 
— to be amused. This speculative study of what the 
public, as the phrase is, may in the good-humour of 
that ferocious love of a bargain by which it is so healthily 
animated possibly " like," gives the taint of the per- 
functory even to the cleverest play — and still more of 
course to any that is not the cleverest. The author's 
tact goes above all to feeling for the particular pound 
of flesh that the Shylock of the box-office may happen 
for the hour to pronounce best weight ; considerations 
coloured equally by the circumstances imposed, the 
circumstances in which the author exerts himself. 
Those under which both the entertainments comprised 
in this volume were projected, and under which the 
first was partly and the second fully elucubrated, carried 
with them a particular economy of production. This is 
indeed more or less the prospect which every dramatist 
has to face ; the situation differs, however, with the 
rigour of the economy — a term I am far from applying 
in any invidious sense. In other words the question 
immediately comes up of the amount of interpretation 
a piece may depend on receiving, a question the answer 
to which can hardly fail to regulate the experiment from 



NOTE IX 

the germ. These things — the formula prescribed, the 
adjustments required, the direction imposed, the 
quantity of acting suppHed — are, taken together, the 
star under which it is born. 

It may help at any rate to account for what would 
otherwise be inexplicable in " The Album " and "The 
Reprobate " to say that the act of propitiation on their 
behalf seemed most securely to lie in the uttermost 
regions of dramatic amiability, the bland air of the 
little domestic fairy-tale, a species of which we had 
recently enough welcomed, with wonderment and envy, 
sundry successful specimens. It became perforce a 
part of that fascination of which I spoke just now (in 
connection with the question of difficulty) to try and 

"see with eye serene 
The verj' pulse of the machine," 

discover in other words the secret, master the specific 
type. The different fairies had to be summoned to the 
cradle, from the fairy Genial to the fairy Coincidence, 
and one was not to feel the omens propitious till the 
scheme bristled with as many of these old friends as a 
nursery-tale. And yet the nursery-tale had to be 
rigorously a comedy — unless it should have the good 
fortune to prove rigorously a farce. If indeed it should 
find itself striking for freedom in that quarter it would 
encounter on the path, with warning finger raised, the 
incorruptible fairy Sentiment. The fairy Sentiment in 
turn had to mind what she was about under the eye of 
the foul fiend Excision, " the blind Fury with th' abhorred 
shears," from under whose feet every inch of ground 



X THEATRICALS 

was if possible to be cut in advance. Then the mixture 
was to be stirred to the tune of perpetual motion and 
served, under pain of being rejected with disgust, with 
the time-honoured bread-sauce of the happy ending. 
Perpetual motion would be the tide floating the boat 
off the sands of the superficial, and the happy ending, 
staring out of the funny round eyes of the type itself, 
was as much designated as a necessity as it was sup- 
posedly little foreseen as a result. Add to this that, 
as a door must be either open or shut and a play be 
either one thing or the other, conformity to the tone of 
the particular variety had to be kept well in view. 

Authors, I fancy, differ on the point greatly from 
managers, but it is difficult to enter into the ethics of 
an author who is not clear about the duty resting on 
a drama, large or small, to make up its mind about 
itself and decide definitely what it shall pretend to pass 
for. A comedy only, and nothing else but a comedy, 
is a comedy ; likewise, as it can only arrive at its dis- 
tinguishing form if the idea at its root be a comedy- 
idea, so the possession of this idea commits it from the 
first to the responsibility of congruity. It must be 
pitched in the key of its nature — for its nature has a 
key. If it forfeits its harmony with its type it forfeits 
everything. But that is all rudimentary. Last not 
least these compositions were to have met the pressure 
of easy and early production. In the case of "The 
Reprobate " this requirement was particularly operative, 
and the whole experiment was intensely submissive to 
it. I hasten to parenthesise, in connection with the 
title of the piece, which recalls so nearly that of a con- 



NOTE XI 

spicuous contemporary drama, that I have ventured to 
retain it because it is worn in the first place by a thing 
of mere drollery — so far as the miscarried intention goes, 
and in the second by a thing unacted. If the play had 
been performed it would certainly have been performed 
under a name less usurped. The author of " The 
Profligate," as the case stands, will view with indulgence 
an usurpation of so little practical import. The con- 
venience the piece had to square with was the idea of 
a short comedy, the broader the better, thoroughly 
simple, intensely "pleasant," affording a liberal chance 
to a young sympathetic comedian, calling for as little 
acting as possible besides, skirting the fairy-tale, strain- 
ing any and every point for that agreeable falsity, entail- 
ing no expense in mounting, and supremely susceptible of 
being played to audiences unaccustomed to beat about 
the bush for their amusement — audiences, to be per- 
fectly honest, in country towns. This last condition 
was rigorous for both pieces, and the one the author 
took most into account. 

But his calculation to this particular end, as well as 
to others, proved wide of the mark ; which means 
accordingly that — like their predecessors and like every 
other dramatic bid made by the neophyte and not 
taken up — they do, in an intenser degree, practically 
confess themselves exercises. (It is impossible to doubt, 
by the way, that if more such rejected addresses were 
only given to the light, with some history of their adven- 
tures, they would end by constituting in themselves a 
suggestive, almost a legitimate, literature and adding 
greatly to the lively interest taken, in our day, in the 



XU THEATRICALS 

concerns of the English theatre.) There would be 
nothing more to say about this volume were it not that 
the fascination I mentioned above clings almost as much 
to the theory of the matter as to the practice ; so that 
in regard to any given collapse it may never be quite 
idle to glance at the influence that has made the exercise 
irretrievably hollow. Shall it have been mainly that 
terror of excision to which I have alluded and which 
engenders precautions that vitiate a scheme by making 
it abound, so to speak, in the sense of its meagreness ? 
The hard meagreness inherent in the theatrical form, 
committed to think after all so much more of the clock 
than of the subject — the subject which runs so breath- 
less, so fearfully flogged a race with the galloping dial- 
hands — this danger of death by starvation tends too 
much to undermine the faith of the neophyte, tends to 
make him give up, as lost in advance to his idea, the 
advantage of development. From such a renunciation 
to choosing the ideas that require least to be developed 
is, one must fear, but a short and specious step. The 
most important ideas, he reflects, are those that require 
most looking after — the least important are those that 
require least. "You can't feed a big stomach," he says 
to himself, " on a gobble between trains " ; and the 
solution accordingly seems to lie in the region of small 
receptacles. " Give me an hour more, just an hour," 
he pleads ; " Dumas and Augier never lacked it, and it 
makes all the difference ; and with its aid I shan't fear 
to tackle the infinite." He does not get his hour, and 
he will probably begin by missing his subject. He 
takes, in his dread of complication, a minor one, and it's 



NOTE xiii 

heavy odds that the minor one, with the habit of small 
natures, will prove thankless. 

The only beauty of this consummation lurks probably 
in the private generalisation it leads our gentleman to 
make. Heaven forbid we should too rashly drop in 
upon his private generalisations : those that have gathered 
about the kindled fire of our hypothetical inquirer will 
surely constitute a family party whose secrets it were 
best not to overhear. They are not prepared for com- 
pany, they are not dressed to go out, and some of them 
will certainly startle us in their abandonment of the 
manners of society. We must give him, however, all 
the benefit of the presumption that they swarm about 
his hearth. These are the associations that attach him 
to the insufferable little art with which he is so justly 
infatuated : ties of infinite reflection and irritation, rela- 
tions of lively intimacy and of endless discovery. The 
consistent pursuit of it comprehends, I think, more private 
generalisations, more stores of technical experience, than 
any other aesthetic errand ; and these secret hoards may 
not unreasonably be expected to supply sooner or later, 
in most cases, the ringing metal with which the adventurer 
shall pay his way. It is an expensive journey — it costs 
ever so much a mile. But the nature of the infatuation, as 
I have called it, enlivens, if it does not shorten, the road. 
The man who pretends to the drama has more to learn, 
in fine, than any other pretender, and his dog's-eared 
grammar comes at last to have the remarkable peculiarity 
of seeming a revelation he himself shall have made. 

The lesson consists for the most part, as the author 
of these remarks has somewhere else ventured to express 



XIV THEATRICALS 

the matter, in the periodical throwing overboard of the 
cargo to save the ship. The ship is always in danger — 
the most successful play has come within an ace of 
sinking, and the peril recurs every night ; so that uni- 
versal sacrifice is always in the air. The freight, the 
fittings, the ballast, the passengers, the provisions, the 
luggage, the crew, the whole thing must inexorably " go," 
and the vessel is not in proper trim till she is despoiled 
of everything that might have appeared to make her 
worth saving ; till the last survivor in the last rag of the 
rigging has been consigned to the fishes, uttering that 
shriek of despair which lives on in the playwright's ear 
and becomes eventually the sweetest music he knows. 
The scientific name of this ferocious salvage is selection — 
selection made perfect, so that effect, the final residuum, 
shall become intense — intense with that sole intensity 
which the theatre can produce and for the sake of which 
much perhaps will be forgiven it. There is no room in 
a play for the play itself until everything (including 
the play, the distracted neophyte pantingly ascertains) 
has been completely eliminated. Then the fun, as the 
vulgar phrase is, begins. That it will be found to have 
begun in the present very simplified studies is much 
more than shall be here predicted ; but the moral of my 
observations is that, if there have been many occasions 
when it was recognised as fast and furious, these have 
been conspicuously occasions when the dramatist himself 
has alone known (as he has doubtless alone cared) why. 
His privilege, his duty rather, is to cultivate that mystery. 
His still more distinguishing function, I hasten to add, is 
of course to bring it about. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

The Album ..... i 

The Reprobate. . . . -193 



THE ALBUM 



IN THREE ACTS 



VOL. II 



CHARACTERS 

Sir Ralph Damant, Bart. 

Mark Bernai. 

Teddy Ashdown. 

The Vicar. 

The Footman. 

Grace Jesmond. 

Lady Basset. 

Maud Van neck. 



ACT FIRST 

The convenient, inhabited hall of a handsome modern country- 
house, which exhibits several signs of confusion and disarray, as if 
something has happened to interrupt the regular routine. Up toward 
the left the passage to the outer hall, the entrance to the house, and 
also to some of the apartments. Up toward the right the passage to 
other apartments. Half-way down, to the right, a large French 
window, open to the garden and park. Corresponding to it, to the 
left, the door to the library, constituting another entrance to the house. 

Lady Basset enters briskly from the outer hall, in her hat and mantle, dressed 
for a journey, carrying with her a dressing-bag substantially stuffed. She 
places it on one of the tables ; then hunting about a moment finds a book 
in another part of the room and, bringing it over, proceeds to pack it into 
her bag. While she is so engaged Teddy Ashdown enters from the 
outer hall, in his hat and Inverness cape, likewise carrying a dressing- 
bag. In his other hand he carries a note in an enclosed envelope. He 
stops short an instant, watching Lady Basset. 

TEDDY. 

Is that the second volume ? 

LADY BASSET, serenely packing. 

Dear Maud has it. This is the third. You had better 
take the first. 

TEDDY, coming down, putting his bag on ancther table. 

Oh, I've read it ! 



4 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

That doesn't matter — it completes the set. 

TEDDY. 

But it deprives the house — ! 

LADY BASSET, her bag in her hand ; now all ready to go. 

The house can afford it, and in this upheaval it's an 
advantage there should be fewer things to lie about. 

TEDDY, artless. 

To " lie " about ? 

LADY BASSET. 

When confusion reigns I take a line. There's not a 
creature anywhere — I carry my own luggage. 

TEDDY, taking his bag again. 

So do I ! 

LADY BASSET, perceiving the note in his hand. 

You also carry the letters ? 

TEDDY, reading again the superscription. 
Till I find the Vicar. (Then handing her the note, quoting.) 

" Very urgent " ! 

LADY BASSET, who has taken the note from him. 

Then why doii't you find the Vicar ? 

TEDDY, putting down his bag ag.ain ; verj' vague. 

I'm looking ! 



ACT FIRST 5 

LADY BASSET, preoccupied with the note, which she retains. 

Dear Maud has him. 

TEDDY, startled, decided. 

Then I must find dear Maud. 

LADY BASSET. 
VOU won't one never does. (Turning the note over and round.) 

From Mr. Lamb? 

TEDDY, assenting. 

The sohcitor : to be particularly attended to. 

LADY BASSET, with unfakering decision. 

I'll attend to it. 

TEDDY, surprised. 

You'll read it ? 

LADY BASSET. 

When confusion reigns I take a line. (Then having resolutely 
opened and reading the note) " Sir Ralph wircs arrival — plcase 
see that he's met at Junction." (Struck, thinking.) Sir 
Ralph Damant ? 

TEDDY. 

The next of kin — they've sent for him. 

LADY BASSET, thoughtful ; refolding the note. 

The next of kin ? I know — unmarried. I'll see that 

he's met ! (Then determined.) I'll UieCt him ! 
TEDDY, still more surprised. 

But you go by the other station. 



6 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

I don't go. I Stay. 

TEDDY, in suspense. 

And dear Maud ? 

LADY BASSET. 

You'll take her off. 

TEDDY, eager. 

In a moment — if she'll come. 

LADY BASSET. 

But you'll first take my bag. 

TEDDY, with the bag she has again placed on the table. 

Take it— ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Back to my room. 

TEDDY. 

And tell Miss Jesmond ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Miss Jesmond's out. She's heartless. 

TEDDY, blank. 

Heartless ? 

LADY BASSET. 

With her protector, her patron, dying ! 

TEDDY, still more blank. 

Dying ? 



ACT FIRST 7 

LADY BASSET. 

If the nearest of kin is sent for. 

TEDDY, struck; rueful. 

What a pity ive're not near ! 

LADY BASSET. 

One is — when one's on the spot. I've been in houses 
before when the head has been taken ill and the guests 
have scattered like frightened sheep. But I hold that 
guests have duties, and I've always remained at my post. 

(Seeing Maud Vanneck : enter Maud Vanneck from the outer hall, dressed 

also for travelling.) Mr. Bedford's dying ! 

MAUD, in a waistcoat, with an eye-glass. 

Already ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Before one can turn round. It has taken only a summer 
night to empty the house. 

MAUD. 

It seems to me we fill it a good deal ! But I've sent 
the Vicar for my bag. 

LADY BASSET. 

You go with Mr. Ashdown. 

MAUD, after an instant. 

And whom do you go with ? 

TEDDY. 

She doesn't go. You and I go together ! 



THE ALBUM 
LADY BASSET. 



1 remain — to act. 



TEDDY, to Maud ; explaining. 

For poor Mr. Bedford — to receive the heir. 

MAUD, struck. 

Is there an heir ? 

TEDDY, taking his note with quick compunction back fioni Lady Basset. 

By the way, he must be met ! 

MAUD, surprised, ironic. 

By her ladyship ? 

LADY BASSET. 

For common decency. There's no one else ! 

MAUD. 

Isn't there Miss Jesmond ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Miss Jesmond doesn't count. A person in her position 
— a dependent. 

TEDDY. 

Besides, she's out. 

MAUD. 

Only at the station — hurrying people off. 

LADY B.\SSET, struck. 
The station ? (Catching Mauu's arm and in tlie inadvertence of her dis- 
composure precipitately betraying herself.) Then she'll see him first! 



1 



ACT FIRST 9 

MAUD, with repruachfiil superiority. 

Is it your kind calculation that / shall see him last ? 
TEDDY. 

Don't see Iwm at all ! Travel with me ! (Then as the vicar 
appears.) Hcre's your bag ! 

Enter the Vicak from the outer hall wearing his hat and carrying a 
lady's dressing-bag. 

MAUD. 
Take it back ! (Seating herself with resolution.) I remain. 

TEDDY, seating himself in the same manner. 

Then / remain. 

LADY BAS.SET, to the Vicak ; abrupt, imperative. 

Take me to the Junction — it's your duty. 

THE VICAR, youngish, bland, blond, flustered. 

There isn't a conveyance — everything's out ! 

MAUD, to Lady Basset. 

If you go there, my dear, /go ! 

TEDDY, to Maud. 
And if you go, I go ! (Then to the Vicar, as Lady Basset turns 
away with a disconcerted shrug.) YoU mUSt gO tO meet the 

heir ! 

THE VICAR. 
Sir Ralph ? he's coming ? 



lo THE ALBUM 

TEDDY. 

This moment. (To get rid of him.) Go quick ! 

LADY BASSET. 

Receive him with all the honours. 

MAUD, laughing. 

Don't mind that — leave the reception to us ! 

THE VICAR, at a loss, with his bag. 

But how shall I get there ? 

TEDDY. 

Catch a pony — ride ! 

THE VICAR, with a happy thought. 

ril run ! 

E.\it the Vic.^R with the bag to the outer Iiall 
TEDDY, to Maud, amused. 

He has sneaked your bag ! 

MAUD. 

Recover it — take it back to my room. 

LADY BASSET. 

Do nothing of the sort — take mine. 

TEDDY, with Lady Basset's bag. 

I'll take both ! 

E.xit Teddy to tlie outer hal 



ACT FIRST II 

MAUD, with dignity and resentment. 

That's not the sort of girl I am ! 

LADY BASSET. 

What sort do you mean ? 

MAUD. 

The sort that goes up to London with unscrupulous 
young men. You interpret strangely your pledge to my 
absent mother. 

LADY BASSET. 

You talk as if your absent mother were in paradise ! 

MAUD. 
She's only at Zanzibar, I know — on her tour round the 
globe. But I'm none the less entitled to your con- 
scientious care. 

LADY BASSET. 

Why then are you so nasty when I endeavour to dis- 
pose of you properly ? 

MAUD. 

Do you call it disposing of me properly to dispose of 
me to Mr. Ashdown ? 

LADY BASSET. 

He's the only person I've met who takes any notice of 
you ! 

MAUD. 

You don't meet many people, I know, for every one 
runs away from you ! 



12 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

My mother never did, my dear, as yours has done from 
you ! 

MAUD. 

She'll come back as soon as she receives the account 
I've written her of your selfishness. 

LADY BASSET. 

It doesn't compare with hers, I think ; for I accepted, 
when I rashly consented to take you out, the problem 
she unnaturally shirked ! 

MAUD. 

You took me from cold calculation — you knew I would 
prove attractive. 

LADY BASSET, protesting, derisive. 

Attractive ? 

MAUD. 

To single gentlemen — and others. And then let jou 

get hold of them ! (After an instant, with triumphant emphasis.) 

That's not the sort of girl I am ! 

LADY BASSET. 

If I had been aware of the sort you are I never would 
have looked at you ! I cable to Zanzibar that I throw 
you up. 

MAUD. 

You leave me unprotected ? Very well : I can face the 
usual dangers ! 



ACT FIRST 13 

LADY BASSET. 

You seem highly famihar with them ! (Then, after a moment, 

in a diliferent tone, as if with a new, superseding thought.) Can yOU faCe 

Miss Jesmond ? 

MAUD, blank. 

What danger does she present ? 

LADY BASSET. 

That of producing an early impression on Sir Ralph 
Daniant. 

MAUD. 

The gentleman about to arrive ? 

LADY BASSET. 

The nearest of kin, the heir to this lovely Courtlands. 

MAUD. 

How are you sure he's the heir ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Mr. Bedford's to make a new will. Mr. Tamb, his 
solicitor, is with him. 

MAUD. 

To make it in favour of Sir Ralph ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Naturally — if he has called him to his bedside. 

MAUD, thoughtful. 

Yes ; he wouldn't bring him from London only to cut 
him off ! But aren't there other relatives ? 



14 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

Far-away kindred — people with means of their own. 1 
used to hear of them from my husband. 

MAUD. 

In the improvident days when you had a husband ! 
Has no one else expectations ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Miss Jesmond has plenty, I suppose ! 

MAUD, blank. 

Do you mean he'll do more for her ? Hasn't she lived 

on him for years ? 

LADY BASSET. 

For the last four or five. She has enjoyed every luxury, 
in return for promiscuous services rendered as an 
"amanuensis" — functions mysterious and elastic! But 
as the daughter of an old friend — the clergyman who 
was this one's predecessor and who died without leaving 
a farthing — he may think her a deserving object. 

MAUD, after an instant. 

Do you mean she'll lie in wait for Sir Ralph ? 

LADY BASSET. ™ 

She's just that kind of person. It's the way she's 
dangerous. Therefore keep an eye on her. I 

MAUD, after another instant. 

Do you set me to watch her so that you may be free to 
look after Sir Ralph ? 



ACT FIRST 15 

LADY BASSET. 

I give you my reasons for thinking that he may be of 
interest to her. 

MAUD. 

But why should she be of interest to him ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Because she's so pretty and so clever. 

MAUD. 

Has she had the Higher Education ? No ? Then she's 
not a trained intelligence ! 

LADY BASSET. 

I believe it /s an intellectual gymnastic to cope with the 
coldness of Sir Ralph ! 

MAUD. 

Is he so exempt from the weaknesses of his sex? 

LADY BASSET. 

I've never seen him, but I've heard of his peculiar atti- 
tude — the dread of the dizziness of great heights. He 
has a terror of eminent women — the fascination of the 
abyss. It's a fixed idea with him that if he neglects his 
defences he may some day take the jump. 

MAUD. 

Find himself practically engaged ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Find himself legally married. 



i6 THE ALBUM 

^[AUD. 
Are there such a lot of things to marry him for? 

LADY BASSET. 
Figure them up ! A good old title — a creation of Eliza- 
beth. A quiet mind about other women. A very good 

fortune, and (with a gesture for the whole place about them) a VCry 

fine prospect ! 

]\L\UD. 

If he has money enough to go in fear, why does poor 
Mr. Bedford leave him more ? 

LADY BASSET. 

To increase his terror — a harmless joke of the dear 
man ! 

MAUD. 

Do you mean because Mr. Bedford himself has a passion 
for us ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Uncontrolled — but jilatonic ! Besides, there's no other 
cousin. 

MAUD. 

None at all ? 

LADY BASSET. 

There zvas one, I believe, but he's lost to sight. 

MAUD. 
Trust him to turn up ! 



ACT FIRST 17 

LADY BASSET. 

They have trusted him, but always in vain. He was 
wild, he was worthless — good for nothing but America, 
to which he went. 

MAUD. 

If he went he can come back. 

LADY BASSET. 

Not, luckily, from the grave — luckily, I mean, for Sir 
Ralph. Mr. Bedford has knowledge of his death. 

MAUD. 

And have you knowledge of his name ? 

LADY BASSET. 

His name ? Mark Bernal. 

MAUD, after an instant, rising. 

I thank you for your solid facts. Very nice of you ! 
LADY BASSET. 

Haven't I justified my warning about Miss Jesmond ? 

MAUD. 
Perfectly. (After another instant, in the tone of one who has won a diplo- 
matic victory.) Make her your charge ! 

LADY BASSET, blank ; then disconcerted, indignant, rising. 

You're ungrateful — and you're sly ! 

Enter Mark Bernal from the outer hall. 
VOL. II C 



i8 THE ALBUM 

MAUD, seeing him first ; privately. 

Not a bit — see how frank 1 shall be with Sir Ralph ! 

LADY B.\SSE r, to herself, startled, turning ; taking in Makk IBernal 
with emotion and surprise. 

Sir Ralph ? 

BERNAL, a man of some three-and-thirty ; very good-looking, but of un- 
conventional aspect ; with a long fair moustaclie, a mixed, informal suit, 
composed of articles that don't match ; a soft hat, a light overcoat over one 
arm and a painter's album, a sketch-book of moderate size — new and covered 
with brown linen — carried in the other : stopping short as he sees the two 
women, looking vaguely from one of them to the other ; then, eagerly, as 
he comes down. 

My cousin's ill ? I heard in the village how grave it is. 

LADY BASSET, solemnly sympathetic, but intensely gracious 
and reassuring. 

The dear man suffers, but I'm watching ! 

MAUD, with the same effusion of condolence ; very ingratiating. 

The party broke up ; but it seemed to me (smiling signiii- 
cantiy at Bernal) quite Hot the moment to turn one's back ! 

LADY BASSET. 

At the door there was no one to receive you ? 

BERNAL. 

It stood wide open, and, as I rang in vain, 1 ventured 
at last to walk in. 

MAUD, seductive. 

You needn't have been afraid, with the place as good as 
your own ! 



ACT FIRST 19 

LADY BASSET, irresistible. 

Vou must let me share your authority till the servants 
are again at their posts. 

BERNAL, who has looked, as they alternately address him, in bewilderment 
and mystification from one of the women to the other. 

My "authority," madam, is small, and my title to 
possession nil ! 

LADY BASSET. 

You speak from your characteristic reserve ! 

^L\UD. 

You'll find your essential strength when you've seen Mr. 
Bedford. 

BERNAL, more and more confounded, but also dawningly amused. 

My essential strength ? 

LADY BASSET, arch. 

You can't evade your fate ! 

BERNAL, blank. 

My fate ? 

LADY BASSET. 

The way to learn it is to let me take you to our honoured 
friend. 

MAUD, eagerly interposing. 

Permit me to recommend your waiting, while this lady 
goes to ask leave. 

BERNAL, hesitating afresh, thinking, looking still, in his guarded wonder- 
ment, from one of them to the other. 

Is his present state very critical ? 



THE ALBUM 



LAUY BASSET. 



Dear Maud will oblige you by ascertaining. He's shut 
up at present with his solicitor. 



MAUD. 



Inevitably, alas, at such a moment, with the future of 
such possessions at stake ! 



LADY BASSET. 

Their commanding extent demands the presence of the 
family. 

BERNAL, dazed, echoing. 

The family ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Reduced to you, happy man, though you pretend you 
don't appreciate it ! 

BERNAL. 

You accuse me of pretending, madam ; but I won't 
pretend I understand you ! (After an instant.) Give me 
time to turn round — I'm painfully affected, (indicating the 
long window.) I'll go out a uiomcnt. 

MAUD, ahnost pouncing on him. 

Into the air? I'll take you ! 

LADY BASSET, baffled by Maud's alertness, looking round her quickly and 
spying Bernal's album, which he has placed on a table and of which she 
possesses herself. 

I'll take your charming companion ! 

BERNAL, anxious, ingenuous, demurring. 

Then who'll be near my cousin ? 



4 



ACT FIRST 21 

LADY BASSET. 

The vicar, the lawyer, the doctor, the nurse. 

MAUD, with a sarcastic inflection. 

And also Miss Grace Jesraond ! 

BERNAL, vague. 

Miss Grace Jesmond ? 

LADY BASSET. 

A person employed. 

MAUD. 
One of the fixtures. 

BERNAL, innocent. 

She goes with the house ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Scarcely to enhance its value ! 

MAUD. 

She has value enough to be paid ! 

BERNAL, vague. 

Paid ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Wages. She writes for the dear man, she reads for him, 
and I daresay she ciphers ! 

MAUD, who has possessed herself, officiously, to carry it, of Bernal's light 
overcoat in the same way that Lady Basset has appropriated the sketch-book. 

But she hasn't had the Higher Education ! 



22 THE ALBUM 

BERN AL, laughing and trj-ing to take his coat back from Maud. 
I haven't had it myself! (Then as she whisks away the coat, 

escaping to the right.) Take carc — there are things in the 
pockets ! 

MAUD, victorious, challenging ; in the long window with the coat. 

Then come and get them ! 

Flirts out to the park. 

LADY BASSET, nursing the sketch-book ; sociably, while Bernal, at the 
window, appearing to hesitate, looks at her an instant. 

Which of us do you prefer ? 

BERNAL, clapping the empty pockets of his waistcoat and jacket, as if with 
alarm, successively and quickly. 

I prefer my cigarettes ! 

E.xit Bernal by the window. 

LADY BASSET, disconcerted, considering. 

Shall I follow with this? (Opening the album ; turning a page 

or two.) Real art ?— my passion ! (Then to herself, as she sees 
Grace Jesmond at the left — enter Grace Jesmond from the library — dropping 
the book on a table as if to disconnect herself from every sign of the visitor's 
passage.) Ah ! 

GRACE, back from the station, in her hat and iacket; stopping short, surprised 
at still finding Lady Basset, and speaking impulsively. 

You're not gone ? 

I^.VDY BA.SSET, uncompromising. 

And not going ! 

GRACE, struck, eager. 

Then Mr. Bedford's better ? 



ACT FIRST 23 

LADY BASSET, at the window ; vicious. 

Mr. Bedford's worse ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the park. 
GRACE, alone, dolorous, interrogative. 

'• Worse ? " 

Enter a Footman from the outer hall. 
FOOTMAN. 

Sir Ralph Damant ! 

Enter Sir Ralph Damant. Exit Footman. 
GRACE, instantly, sadly 

Mr. Bedford's worse ! 

SIR RALPH, stopping short with the force of his contained emotion. 
Ah ? (Then, after an instant, while he has stood with lowered eyes.) How 

much worse ? 

GRACE. 

Even a Httle (thinking, discouraged) may be more than 
enough ! 

SIR RALPH. 

How lately have you seen him ? 

GR.ACE. 

Not this morning. I've been at the station — seeing 
people off. 

SIR RALPH. 

He has had " people " again ? 



24 

A large party. 

Women, as usual ? 
Several ladies. 
They've all gone ? 
Not quite all. 
All but you ? 



THE ALBUM 
GRACE. 

SIR RALPH. 

GRACE. 
SIR RALPH. 

GRACE. 
SIR RALPH. 



GRACE. 



I don't go (after an instant, with the note of quiet irony) quite yCt. 

And two others remain. 

SIR RALPH, with a shght start and a glance round him. 

Two Others ? Where are they ? 

GRACE, nodding toward the window. 

I think in the park. 

SIR RALPH, percmptorj'. 

Then send them off! 

GRACE, cold. 

ril leave you to do that. 

SIR RALPH. 

I've more immediate duties — I've been sent for. 



ACT FIRST 25 

GRACE. 

So I heard — before going out. 

SIR RALPH. 

You range the country — with poor Mr. Bedford dying? 

GRACE, after an instant. 

I've not said that he's dying. 

SIR RALPH, perceptibly pulled up. 

Then, pray, why was I dragged here ? 

GRACE. 

I had nothing to do with dragging you. His doctor's 
with him — and his clergyman. And Mr. Lamb, his 
lawyer. 

SIR RALPH, after a moment. 

For testamentary purposes ? 

GRACE. 

Very likely. It was Mr. Lamb's idea to wire to you. 

SIR RALPH. 

What does he want me to do ? 

GRACE. 

I haven't the least idea. 

SIR RALPH. 

He shouldn't trifle (hesitating) with my habits ! I've not 
been here for years. 



26 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
Just five. Your last visit was the year I came. 

SIR RALPH. 

There have ahvays been too many women. 

GR.\CE. 

I've had tlie misfortune to be one of them. 

.SIR RALPH. 

"One" is quite enough. In some cases, indeed, too 
much. I recognise — in general — your inevitable char- 
acter, but I hate to be the subject of manoeuvres. 

GRACE. 

It must be very odious. It has never been my fate. 

SIR RALPH. 

I can easily believe it. Keep out of them ! 

GRACE. 

We can each — for ourselves — abstain from them. 

SIR RALPH, looking at her hard an inst.int. 

That's exactly what I do! I neither practise nor permit 

them. (Then after another instant, during which Grace gives a silent, 
decorous, but inexpressive movement of assent.) Have Other relations 

been summoned ? 

GR.\CE. 
Others ? I think there are no others. 



ACT FIRST 27 

SIR RALPH, gratified, complacent. 

Only me ? There are persons remotely connected, but 
I appreciate the discrimination. 

GRACE. 

Mr. Lamb, last night, asked me a question. 

SIR RALPH. 

In regard to your personal pretensions ? 

GRACE, surprised. 
Mine ? (With genuine melancholy dignity.) What prCtensionS 

have /, Sir Ralph ? 

SIR RALPH. 

You're the sort of person who usually has extraordinary 

ones ! 

GR.\CE. 

How do you know what sort of person 1 am ? 

SIR RALPH. 

I admit that I've been reduced to speculate. (After an 

instant, somewhat tentatively.) I've WOndcrcd, for inStaUCC, if 

you're paid. 

GRACE. 

For my work ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Or have only your bed and board. 

GRACE. 

And my washing ? Let me relieve you. I've had a 
salary. 



28 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, relieved. 

Ah, that settles the question ! 

GRACE, vague. 

What question ? 

SIR RALPH. 

That of your expectations. You took them out in his 
life. 

GRACE. 

You speak as if his Hfe were over ! 

SIR RALPH. 

An inadvertence. But from the moment the lawyers 
take the field — ! 

GRACE. 

It was to ask me about Mark Bernal. 

SIR RALPH, struck; vague an instant. 

Mark Bernal? 

GRACE. 

Who was mentioned in an earlier will. 

SIR R.\LPH, thinking. 

Little Mark, shabby little Mark — whom I knew as a boy, 
a small boy when I was a big one : my cousin's cousinw 

and my own cousin ? (With extreme emphasis and decision.) Why, 

all the world knows he's dead. 

GR.XCE. 

Mr. Lamb's aware of that rumour. 



ACT FIRST 29 

SIR RALPH. 
It ain't a rumour — it's a fact ! 

GRACE. 

Requiring proof. There are four thousand a year — 

SIR RALPH, breaking in. 

Four thousand a year ? 

GRACE. 

For somebody ! 

SIR RALPH, after an instant. 

Not for shabby little Mark ! 

GRACE. 
So it would appear. Mr. Bedford, last night, was not to 
be disturbed ; so that Mr. Lamb's question was as to 
whether, during the five years I've lived here, I had 
heard of any communication from Mr. Bernal. 

SIR RALPH, complacently affirmative. 

And you've heard of none ! 

GRACE. 

None whatever. 

9 SIR RALPH. 

Then that's the proof required. Mark's mother was a 
cousin of our cousin — that's the degree. 

GR-\CE. 

The same degree as your degree. 



30 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, after an instant, as if reluctant to admit it. 

The same degree as mine. (Then with much more alacrity.) But 
a connection — undesirable. They were people of no 
position. 

GRACE, ironically dubious, surprised. 

Cousins of yours ? 

SIR RALPH, totally unconscious of her irony : candidly confidential. 

I never ran after them. The mother died, the father 
died, and Mark, who used to come here for his holidays, 
made a sad mess of his prospects. 

GRACE. 

Prospects ? \Vliat prospects ? 

SIR RALPH. 

A presumptive interest in the four thousand. He took 
to low courses ; I believe he took to painting portraits. 
He wore queer clothes and knew queer people. He 
was wild — I'm convinced he was wicked. His tastes 
were vulgar; his abilities mean. He went to the bottom 
— he went to America. 

GRACE. 

»* 

Where — in the far west — he died, in a brawl, unap- 
preciated. 

SIR RALPH. 

But not uncommemorated. (After an inst.-int.) The papers 
mentioned it. 



ACT FIRST 31 

GRACE. 
And if they hadn't ? 

SIR RALPH, pointingjuJiciouslytheiuor.il. 

Why, he might have come in for something ! 

GRACE, turning away with a vague general sigh. 

It makes one hate them ! (Then seeing the Vicar, and addressing 
him, introducing Sir Ralph. Re-enter the Vicar from the outer hall, heated 
and breathless, still with Maud Vanneck's bag.) Sir Ralph Damant. 

THE VICAR. 

I missed you by crossing the fields ! 

SIR RALPH, distant, sarcastic, superior. 

I'm never to be found in the " fields " ! 

GR.ACE. 
Will you kindly inform Mr. Lamb ? 

THE VICAR. 

And what shall I do with the bag ? 

GRACE, amused, indicating indulgently a place to put it down. 

Part with it — there ! 

THE VICAR, depositing the bag with scrupulous care and extreme relief. 

There ! (Then up at the right.) I'll anuounce Sir Ralph. 

Exit the Vicar to the right. 
Re-enter from the outer hall Teddy Ashdown. , 



32 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY, seeing the bag. 
He's back with it ? (Confidingly, familiarly, to both the others.) 

Such a chase ! 

SIR RALPH, struck with the elation of his tone and regarding the bag — 
conspicuously and showily a lady's — with cold suspicion. 

Pray, sir, is it yours ? 

GRACE. 

It belongs to Miss Vanneck. 

SIR RALPH. 

And who on earth's Miss Vanneck ? 

GRACE, up at the door to the outer hall, to Teuuy. 

Your friends are in the park. Instruct Sir Raljjh while 
I see about his room. 

Exit Grace Jesmont. 

TEDDY, artless, guileless ; producing his effects on Sir Ralph 
without intention. 

Fearfully clever girl, Miss Vanneck ; she's had the 
Higher Education. 

SIR RALPH. 

Mercy ! 

TEDDY. 

A trained intelligence. She came with Lady Basset. 

SIR RALPH. 

And who on earth's Lady Basset ? 

TEDDY. 

Awfully sharp too. She's waiting for you. 



ACT FIRST 

SIR RALPH, dismayed. 

Waiting for me ? 

TEDDY. 

She was going ; but she stayed. 



33 



Stayed ' 



SIR RALPH, echoing. 
TEDDY. 



On purpose to meet you» iSbf'fe^owS-ypu're the Heir ! 




Good Go' 



You're not ? 



I nil! ; but it's none of her business ! 

TEDDY, innocently disconcerted. 

Mayn't I tell her, then? 

SIR RALPH. 
Don't dream of it ! Be so good as to remain with me. 

TEDDY, who has gone to the long window. 

I was thinking of joining " dear Maud " ! 
SIR RALPH. 

The trained intelligence? (As if with a hopeful thought.) Are 
you in love with it ? 

VOL. II D 



34 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY. 
I suppose that's what's the matter with me ! 

SIR R.\LPH. 

Then marry the creature ! 

TEDDY. 

She won't look at me ; she wants a decent fortune. 

SIR R.\LPH, after an instant. 

What does she call a decent fortune^? 

TEDDY. 

Four thousand a year. 

SIR RALPH, dismayed again. 

Four thousand ? 

TEDDY. 

She has fixed that figure. Of course I'm stone broke. 
My governor lias stopped payment. 

SIR RALPH. 

Then make an effort — find something to do. 



TEDDY. 
That's exactly what Fm looking for ! 



SIR R.\LPH. 

Continue to look look hard ! (Then, as Tiddy seems restless.) 

And whatever you do, stay here ! (Encouraging, reassuring.) 
Sit down amuse yourself! (Looking round, nervously, for pretexts 



i 



ACT FIRST 35 

for detaining, beguiling him, Sir Ralph's eye falls on Mark Bernal's album, 
which Lady Basset has placed on one of the tables and which he takes up.) 

I see you sketch. 

TEDDY, seated. 

Oh yes ; I've the artistic nature. 

SIR RALPH 

Fall back on it ! 

TEDDY. 

I am falling ! I feel I've a little gift that only requires 
direction. 

SIR RALPH. 

Then direct it ! (Turning over two or three pages of the album ; 
patronisingly, commendingly.) I like the Steam-roller ! 

TEDDY, vague. 

What Steam-roller ? 

SIR RALPH, passing him the open book. 

That one. 

TEDDY, with the album. 

It's not mine. (Looking at the cover.) It's awfuUy ///^^ mine ! 

(Then on his feet again.) It DClongS (turning to the flyleaf and reading) 

to " Mark Bernal." 

SIR R.ALPH, immensely startled. 

Mark Bernal? 

TEDDY, unconscious of his start, continuing to read from the page. 

" Mark Bernal, Vandyke Lodge, Chelsea ; September 

91. (Then glancing again at the outside of the album.) A JOlly 

new book. 



36 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, taking it back from Teddy's hand and repealing, in his 
guarded amazement, interrogatively, but mechanically. 

A jolly new book ? 

TEDDY. 
Dated last month. Who is Mark Bernal ? 



SIR RALPH, who has stared hard a moment at the name on. the flyleaf, 
and then, looking up, presented a pale, alarmed, conjectural face. 

I haven't the least idea ! 



TEDDY, to whom, recovering himself with a great efTnrt, and as if it doesn't 
matter or mean anything to him, he has surrendered the album again. 

Somebody has left it. (Then reverting to the drawing of which Sir 

Ralph has spoken.) By Jove, I'll cofy' the Steamroller! 

SIR RALPH, uneasy, as Teddy, with the album under his arm, 
goes to the long window. 

Where are you going ? 

TEDDY. 

To join the ladies ! 

Exit Teddy Ash down, with the allnim, to the park. 
.SIR RALPH, alone, deeply agitated, wonderstruck. 

Mark r>ernal — last month ? Here, and nobody knows ? 

(Then, to himself, seeing the Vic.\R reappear: re-enter the Vicak from the 
right.) Will he know ? (To the Vicar, eager.) My COUsin's 

worse ? 

THE VIC.\R, with a memorandum in his hand. 

He keeps up — for Mr. Lamb — but the doctor deprecates 
his seeing you. Therefore I'm desired by Mr. Lamb 
to put you an important question. 



ACT FIRST 37 

SIR RALPH, nervous, anxious. 

An important question ? 

THE VICAR, highly responsible and a little embarrassed. 

Confided to my discretion — on the subject of a relative. 

SIR RALPH, more guarded. 

A relative ? 

THE VICAR, who has ag:iin consulted his memorandum ; looking at Sir 
R.M.l'H, while his pencil taps his chin, over his gl.xsses. 

Mr. MarkMoorsom Bernal. 

SIR RALPH, silent, motionless a moment; then, with intensely studit;d 
collectedness, while he sees Grace Jesmond reappear. 

What of Mr. Mark Moorsom I3ernal ? 

Ke-enter, as he speaks, Grace Jesmond from the outer hall, with several open 
letters in her hand. 

THE VICAR. 

He's believed not to be living. 

SIR RALPH, wliile GuACE, who on recognising the manner in which ihey 
are engaged, has first stopped short and then, on reflection, come down 
discreetly on the side of the stage opposite Sir Ralph's and remained 
there effacing herself and waiting ; only looking over her letters. 

Believed — universally ! 

THE VICAR, re''erring again to his paper. 

Mr. Bedford has taken it for granted ! But it has 
occurred to him, for his com[)leter satisfaction, to cause 
it to be inquired of you, while he has still power to 
inquire, if any intimation to the contrary — (Pausing scrupu- 
lously an instant, smiling bland'y, explanatorily at Grace.) 



3^ '11 IK ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 

If any intimation to tlic contrary — ? 
THE VICAR. 

Has lately reached your ears. 



SIR RALPH, after a moment, during which his eyes have met Grace's, 
raised from her letters fixedly to his own in consequence of the Vicak's 
invitation to her. 

No intimation to the contrary has ever reached my ears. 



THE VICAR, appreciative, satisfied, folding up his paper. 
Most definite ; thank you. (Then to Grace, sentimentally, pro- 
fessionally.) Awfully sad ! 

GRACE, grave. 

Awfully ! (Then to Sir ram-ii.) I cauic back to tell you 
that your apartment is ready for you — the King's Room, 
as we call it. As I've pressing letters to answer (indicating 
the library) perhaps the Vicar will kindly take you to it. 



SIR RALPH, reluctant to leave the room and with an uneasy movement 
looking covertly about him as if still preoccupied with the rapid disappear- 
ance, the whereabouts, of the album. 

I won't trouble the Vicar. I remember the Kind's Room. 



THE VICAR, up at the right, obliging, punctilious. 

Off the main gallery — three steps ! 

Exit the Vicar to the right. 
Re-enter Lady Basset by the long window. 



ACT FIRST 39 

GRACE, at the door of the hbrary. 

1 leave you then to Lady Basset ! 

Exit Grace to the library. 
LADY BASSET, breathless. 

Mr. Ashdown has just told me it's you who are Sir 
Ralph ! 

SIR RALPH, staring, unapproachable. 

Pray who else should it be ? 

LADY BASSET, as if with relief and rapture. 

I like you the better of the two ! 

SIR RALI'H, blank. 

Of which two ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Why, there's a gentleman passing for you ! 

SIR RALPH, agh.-ist. 

Passing for me ? 

LADY BASSET. 
Passing for the Heir — it's the same thing ! 

SIR RALPH, after an instant. 

Possibly ! (After another instant.) Where is this gentleman? 

LADY BASSET. 

You must ask Miss Vanneck ; she has designs on him. 

SIR RALPH. 

Designs ? 



40 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

Matrimonial. Fancy her crudity ! 

SIR RALPH. 

I can easily fancy it ! But if he isn't me, who may this 
person be ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Ask the man ! It's enough for inc that you are you ! 

SIR RALPH. 
It's enough for you, madam ; but it's sometimes too 
much for myself ! Your news is not agreeable to me, 
and I beg you to permit me to retire. 

LADY BASSET. 

You're going to your room? AUuw me to show you 
the way ! 

SIR R.ALPH. 

I know the way. (Then to settle llic matter— keep her quiet.) Off 

the main gallery — three steps. 

LADY BASSET, delighted. 
Three steps? So is mine! I'm going to mine. 

SIR RALPH, .ifter an inst.int. 

Then I remain. When did this scoundrel arrive ? 
LADY BASSET. 

But a moment, 1 judge, before yourself. 



ACT FIRST 41 

SIR R.\LPH. 
And who else has seen him ? 

LADY BASSET. 
No one but Miss Vanneck. 

SIR RALPH. 

Not Miss Jesmond ? 

LADY BASSET. 
Not Miss Jesmond. She's remiss ! 

SIR RALPH, luukiiig at Ills watch. 

What's his appearance ? 

LADY BASSET. 
Very fine, I'm bound to confess. (Then signiikantiy.) But 
you can hold your own, Sir Ralph ! 

SIR RALPH. 
I pass my life, madam, in trying to ! Is this interloper 
plausible — artful ? 

LADY BASSET, after an instant. 

Ariful — in a sense. He cultivates art ! 

SIR RALPH, struck. 
He draws — he paints ? 

LADY BASSET. 
In a style of his own. He had an album. (Looking about 
her.) It was hcrc. 



42 THE ALBUM 

SIR R_\LPH, precipitate. 
I haven't seen it ! (Then after a moment's intense and troubled 
thought ; breaking out frankly and abruptly.) Will yOU grant mC a 

favour, madam ? 



LADY BAS.SET, radiant. 

Every favour a woman can ! 



I 



SIR RALPH. 

One is enough. Simply not to mention that I've askedj 
you these questions. ■ 

LADY BASSET, struck, diplomatic, considering. 

Not to "mention" it? 

Sn< RALPH. 

To forget our conversation. 

LADY BASSET. 
That will surely he difficult ! (Then after reflection.) Wiiat 

do you offer me for this failure of memory ? 



SIR RALPH. 

" Offer " you ? My gratitude, madam — my enlightened 
esteem. 

LADY BASSET. 

"Esteem," Sir Ralph, is rather cold. The price of dis- 
cretion is always high. (Then, smiling, as he appears to demur.) 

A woman's silence, you know, comes dear ! 



I 



ACT FIRST 43 

SIR RALPH. 
There's nothing in life so expensive. Therefore I don't 
haggle with you. I extend to you my personal regard. 

LADY BASSET, arch. 

How " personal " are you prepared to make it ? 

SIR RALPH, after a moment. 

My opportunities shall show you. 

LADY BASSET. 

I await the demonstration ! 

SIR RALPH. 

On the distinct understanding — ? 

LADY BASSET. 

It's for you to treat it as one ! 

SIR RALPH, at the door to the outer hall as that of the library opens. 

Then I begin. Silence to Jicr ! 

Exit Sir Rali'H rapidly. Re-enter Grace Jesmond from the library. 

LADY BASSET, disconcerted, blank. 

Does he call that "beginning"? (Then in a totally different tone 
to Grace, who has two sealed and stamped letters which she takes straight up 

to the big letter-box of the house.) Sir Ralph's adorable ! 

GRACE, after an instant, as she posts her letters. 

Adorable ! 

LADY BASSET. 

And Mr. Bedford ? 



44 THE ALBUM 

GRi\CK, cuiniiii; duwi!. 

He keeps up. 

LADY BASSET, with a shade of disappointment. 

No alteration ? 

GRACE. 
None whatever. 

LADY BASSET, after an instant. 

When it comes, please let me know. 

E.\it Lady I'.asset to the outer hall! 
Re-enter Tedjjv .XsiiDOWN, with the allium, hy the long window. 
GRACE, kind, as slie sees the alhum. 

Have you been sketching ? 

TEDDY, discouraged. 

I've been looking for " dear Maud " ! 

GRACE. 
All in vain ? 

TEDDY. 
High and low. I've no heart for the steam-roller ! 

GRACE, vague. 

The steam-roller ? 

TEDDY, holding out the album, which Gu.\CE takes. 

There's one in there. You should send it after him. 



ACT FIRST 45 

GRACE. 
After whom ? 

TEDDY. 
Mark Bernal. 

GRACE, blank. 

Mark Bernal ? 

TEDDY. 
There's his address. (Then as he perceives her surprise.) Hc 

hasn't been here ? 



GR.'\CE, who has opened the book and turned to the flyleaf; staring, 
astounded, at the inscription. 

Been liere ? He's dead ! 



TEDDY, bewildered. 



" Dead ? " 



GRACE, with all her mystification, but a dawning relief and pleasure 
almost a cry of exultation. 

He's alive ! (Then .as she rapidly turns the book over.) WheiC did 

you i^ei this ? 

TEDDY. 

From Sir Ralph Damant. 

GRACE, struck. 

Sir Ralph Damant ? 

TEDDY, increasingly surprised at her emotion, at the importance she 
appears to attach to the circumstance. 

He gave it to me. (indicating the table.) He picked it up 
there. 



i 



46 THE ALBUM 

f'xRACE, staring. 

There ? How did it come there ? 

TEDDY. 

Blessed if I know ! No more did he. 

GRACE. 

Did he see this name ? 

TEDDY. 

I read it out — I showed it to him. 

GR.ACE. 
And what did he say ? 

TEDDY. 

He said he didn't know the person. 

GRACE, after a moment. 

How long ago was this ? 

TEDDY, looking at his watch. 

Before I went out — half an hour. 

GRACE. 

Are you certain ? 

TEDDY. 

Certain ! I noticed the clock. 



GI^ACE, who has stood a moment intensely wondering and thinking, then has 
gone lip impulsively to the right with the album and, checking herself, come 

down asrain. 



Can you keep the secret ? 



ACT FIRST 47 



TEDDY. 
Is It a secret ? 

GRACE. 

Make it one ! Tell no one you've seen this. 



TEDDY. 

But Sir Ralph knows I have. 

GRACE. 

And you know he has. That's why I want you to be 
dumb. 

TEDDY, staring. 



But if he speaks ? 
He won't speak ! 
Then / won't ! 



GRACE. 



TEDDY. 



GRACE. 
Thank you ! (Then, while Mark Bernal, unseen by either, reappears : 
re-enter Mark Bkrnai, by the long window.) NoW gO tO MisS 

Vanneck ! 

BERNAL, smiling, coming down. 

You'll find her beyond the village, sketching the old 

mill ! (Then while the others, startled, stare at him interrogatively, he goes 
on, after an inclination to Grace, soothingly and sociably.) I pOSted her 

there with a block and a pencil. 



TEDDY, precipitate. 

Then Til join her ! 



Exit Teddy by the long window. 



48 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, frankly, amicably. 

I see yoii have my album ; but I had fortunately in my 
overcoat pocket another string to my bow ! 



I 



GRACE, after a moment, breathless, amazed. 

Are you Mark Moorsom Bernal ? 

BERN.AL, assenting, smiling. 

Are you Grace Jesmond ? 

GRACE, surpiised, touched. 

What do you know of Grace Jesmond, Mr. Bernal ? 

BERNAL. 

What those ladies, what my brilliant pupil out there, 
have been so good as to tell me. 

GR.\CE. 

You've seen them — you've hatl time to talk with them ? 

BERNAL. 

They received me when I came. 

GRACE. 
And when on earth did you come — and whence? 



BERNAL. 

From London — an hour ago. To find a trouble- 
house ! 

GRACE. 

Mr. Bedford's very ill — and unaware of your presence. 



\ 



ACT FIRST 49 

BERNAL. 
I've been taken for some one else ! 

GRACE. 

Sir Ralph Damant? He has just arrived. 

BERNAL. 

Will he see me ? 

GRACE, after an instant. 

It would surprise him to do so ! He thinks you're 
dead. 

BERNAL, struck, smiling, penitent. 

That's one for my bad manners ! 

GRACE, kind, impulsive. 

Your manners seem good enough ! (Then after an instant.) 
But you must save your inheritance. 

BERNAL, vague. 

My inheritance ? 

GRACE. 

Mr. Bedford's making his will, and you've a primary 
title to figure in it. 

BERNAL, surprised, slightly disconcerted. 

Ah, Miss Jesmond, I didn't come to life for that ! 

GRACE. 

Didn't you know of your chance ? 

VOL. II F. 



50 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
Know of it ? I don't even understand it ! 

GRACE. 
Surely you're aware of the fewness of your relatives. 

BERNAL. 

I've been conscious mainly of a different order of priva^ 
tion ! 

GRACE. 
The only person interested, as they say, is Sir Ralph. 

BERNAL. 
And you, Miss Jesmond — are you not interested ? 

GRACE, surprised. 

I, Mr. Bernal ? (xiien after an instant.) I'm a scrvant ! 

BERNAL. 

A servant ? 

GRACE, 

I mean that I've done my work and had my wage. And 
in that useful capacity, by your leave, I should announce 
your arrival to Mr. Bedford. 

BERNAL, demurring. 

Let Iiim learn it, please, at his convenience. 

GR.\CE. 
Do you think nothing of your own ? 



ACT FIRST 51 

BERNAL, vague. 



My own ? 

GRACE. 

With his weakness — time presses. 



BERNAL. 

If he's so weak, why worry him ? I've neglected him 
too long to have rights. 

GRACE. 

I happen to know that he has had your rights in mind. 

BERNAL. 

Then he'll leave me something ! 

GRACE. 

Unfortunately he supposes that they've lapsed. But 
from the moment that lapse is repaired — 

BERNAL, breaking bi. 

He'll " remember " me, as they say ? I don't want to 
be remembered as a beggar ! 

GR.ACE. 
You're no more a beggar than others ! 

BERNAL, vague. 

What others ? 

GRACE. 

There are people who are not here for sentiment. 



52 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
You take a kind view of nic, Miss Jesmond. 

GRACE, after an instant ; frank. 

I want you not to be sacrificed. 

BERNAL. 

It would convey a startling suggestion of my being good 
for something ! I smoke pretty much everywhere, but 
I've never smoked on the altar ! 

GRACE. 

If you're not serious now, I'm afraid you'll never be ! 

BERNAL, sympathetic, emphatic. 

Yes — on the day I can do something to contribute to 
your interests ! Please believe that I'm deeply touched 
by the attention you give to mine. 

GRACE, after an instant, taking again from a table the album which at the 
beginning of the scene she has laid on it. 

Do you know how to acknowledge it ? (Then as he stares 
while she holds up the book.) By giving me thls. 

BERNAL, blank. 

" Giving " it to you ? 

GRACE. 

Letting me keep it. 

BERNAL, assenting with mystified amusement. 

For all it's worth ' 



ACT FIRST S3 

GRACE. 

We'll see what it's worth. (Then moving to go.) But every 
moment counts. 

BERNAL. 

Because he's failing ? 

GR.\CE. 

He shan't fail ! 

BERNAL. 

If the shock may hurt him, I decline the responsibility ! 

GRACE, at the door to the right. 

Then I'll take it! 

E.\it Grace with the album. 
BERNAL, alone. 

What an interesting crisis — and what an attractive 



Re-enter Sir Ralph Damant from the outer hall, precipitate, headlong in his 
discomposure. 

SIR RALPH, with an agitated grievance that breaks out, beyond any other 
preoccupation, to the first person he sees. 

Is there no place in the house that's safe from her ? 

BERNAL, vague. 

From Miss Jesmond ? 

SIR RALPH. 

From Lady Basset ! (Then startled, with a wild stare.) Heavcns ! 
are you Mark Bernal ? 

BERNAL, smiling. 

Did you know I was here ? 



54 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
Never in the world ! But your face comes back to me. 

BERNAL. 

I thought you thought I was dead. 

SIR RALPH. 

You played the part so well ! 

BERNAL. 

I indeed forgot the " house " ! But I now feel as if I 
were making my bow to it — though I'm not wholly sure 

I've had a call ! (Then after another look at Sir Ralph.) YoU 

don't look, cousin, as if the call had come from you ! 
SIR R.A.LPH. 

I'm not fond of theatricals : I go in for the real thing. 
Why have we been elaborately deceived ? 

BERNAL. 

Because that was the scale of your credulity ! I did 
engage, at Portland, Oregon, in a silly row, from an 
honourable motive, a motive with a funny accent, but 
with lovely appealing eyes. I interfered, in other words, 
in a domestic discussion, in the settlement of which I 
was left for dead on the field. 

SIR RALPH. 

It served you right ; you interfered on the wrong side ! 



1 



ACT FIRST 55 

BERNAL. 
That was the opinion of the lively local press, which, in 
huge headlines, pointed the moral of my error. It 
therefore remained silent when I at last picked myself 
up, for my recovery was a different reading of the lesson. 

SIR RALPH. 

You might have given us a sign ! 

BERNAL. 

A sign of what ? That I was an ass ? You had let me 
suspect you knew it already ! 

SIR R.'\LPH. 

Yet you've faced us to-day. 

BERNAL. 

It has taken me a month — since my return — to make 
up my mind to it ! 

SIR R.\LPH. 

You brought back a fortune ? 

BERNAL. 

Of exactly five pounds ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Don't you practise your trade ? 

BERNAL. 

Of which of my trades do you speak ? I've tried too 
many — I've wasted my time ! 



I 



S6 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 

You've been dissolute ? 

BERNAL. 

I've been universal ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Then you're not a painter ? 



BERNAL. 

The critics say so ; but I can't afford to believe them. 
I've returned to my early faith ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Taking portraits ? 

BERNAL, amused. , 

At so much a head ! ^ 

SIR RALPH. 

//bzv much ? 

BERNAL, looking at him an instant ; then jocular. 

A thousand pounds! (Sir Ralph gives a gesture of solemn dismay, 
and at the same moment Bernal sees Maud Vanneck. Re-enter Maud Van- 
neck by the long window ; on which Bernal continues, indicating her sociably.) 

My portraits are dear, but Miss Vanneck can tell you for 
how little I give lessons ! 

MAUD, to Bernal, coming down eagerly. 

Introduce me ! 



ACT FIRST 57 

SIR RiVLPH, still more peremptory. 



Don't ! 



BERNAL, with a humorous want of mercy and the gesture of presenting. 

Sir Ralph Damant — my favourite pupil ! 

MAUD, arch and engaging, to Sir Ralfh. 

If he's nothing but a drawing-master, you must forgive 
my mistaking him at first {or yon / 

BERNAL. 

Now that your error is righted, I expect to be completely 
neglected ! 

SIR RALPH, much disconcerted and disgusted, turning his back on Maud. 

You should keep your favourites in hand ! (Then seeing 

Lady Basset : re-enter Lady Basset from the outer hall.) Ain't she a 

favourite too ? For God's sake keep her ! 

LADY BASSET, who has removed her hat and exchanged her travelling- 
dress for something very smart and advantageous ; smiling significantly at 
Sir Ralph. 

You see I've taken off my things ! 

MAUD, presenting, with an undiscouraged smile, the sleeve of her jacket to 
Sir Ralph. 

Sir Ralph himself will kindly take off mine ! 

Sir Ralph makes a gesture of incorruptible austerity, and Teddy Ashdown, at 
the moment Maud speaks, re-enters by the long window. 

TEDDY, rushing forward, assisting Maud. 

I say — that's 7ny privilege ! 



58 THE ALBUM 

MAUD, provoked at Sir Ralph and in her petulance thrusting at Teddy a 
long pin taken from her dress. 

Then keep this pin ! 



TliDDY, wounded by the pin and giving a start, a sharp cry while Grace 
Jesmond reappears. 

Aie! 



Re-enter Grace Jesmond from the right. 



4 



GRACE, on one side of the stage while Beknal is on the other. 

I've been with the Doctor, Mr. Bernal. (Then, after an ' 

instant, grave, as the Vicar reappears : re-enter the Vicar from the right.) 

He sends the Vicar with a request. 

THE VICAR, flurried and formal as before, addressing them all. 

I request your indulgence for my errand. The Doctor 
considers that a high standard of tranquillity has not 
been successfully maintained. 

BERNAL, solicitous, precipitate. ^^H 

Of course we're an awful nuisance — do tell him I'll go 
this moment ! 

GRACE, promptly interposing. 

Mr. Bernal — please remain ! 



THE VICAR. 

We must part — reluctantly! — with those who've so 
conscientiously — 

GRACE, helping him out. 

Misconceived their duty. Lady Basset and Miss Van- 
neck will find a carriage at the door. 



i 



I 



ACT FIRST 59 

LADY BASSET, deeply disconcerted and disgusted, looks resentfully from 
Grace Jesmond to the Vicar ; then with the movement of accepting under 
compulsion an odious necessity, turns expressively to Sir Ralph. 

We're separated by violence — but I return to take leave 
of you ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the outer hall. 
MAUD, playfully, to Sir Ralph. 

Not even violence, if a single word — 

SIR RALPH. 

A single word ? Farewell ! 

MAUD, in the same way. 

Ah, that is violence ! 

TEDDY, with frank al.icrity, to Grace. 

I'll also go in the carriage. 

GRACE. 

A moment, Mr. Ashdown. (Then after an instant.) Sir 
Ralph, can we part with Mr. Ashdown ? 



SIR RALPH, struck and surprised, mystified and alarmed by her tone ; but 
presently replying with an impenetrable face. 

If I may answer for myself — without a pang ! 



GRACE, kind, to Teddy. 

See to your things then, and come back and take leave 
of us ! 



6o THE ALBUM 



I 



TEDDY, who has been admiring Maud's sketching-block, looking sociably ' 
at Bernal. 

I hate to take leave of Mr. Bernal, because I want him 
to give me a lesson. 



J 



BERNAL, vague, good-humoured. 

A lesson ? 

TEDDY. 

In Miss Vanneck's class ! 

BERNAL, assenting amicably ; amused. 

Look me up in town. 



TEDDY, highly pleased. , 

In town ! ' 

Exit Teddy to the outer hall with the sketching-block. 
THE VICAR. 

The Doctor consents that Sir Ralph and Mr. Bernal 
shall each see his patient. 

SIR RALPH, taking instant precedence. 

Then I go ! 

GRACE, arresting him. 

A moment, Sir Ralph ! (To Bernal.) Mr. Bernal, you go 

first. (Then as Bernal hesitates, indicating Sir Ralph's prior right.) I'v6 

something to say to Sir Ralph. 

THE VICAR, to Bernal at the door to the right. 

This way ! 

BERNAL, to Grace, grave, hesitating. 

Will he know me ? 



ACT FIRST 6i 

GRACE. 
Try! 

BERNAL, at the door to the right ; his eyes on her with the same seriousness. 

I'll try ! 

Exeunt Mark Bernal and the Vicar. 
GRACE, after an instant. 

The will's made ! 

SIR RALPH, staring. 

Then what's the use of Mark's going? 

GRACE. 

It's not too late to make another. 

SIR R.'\LPH. 

He'll hold out ? 

GRACE. 

The Doctor hopes so — with the sight of Mr. Bernal. 

SIR RALPH. 

Sufficiently to make the effort — ? 

GRACE. 
After a rest — to-morrow. 

SIR RALPH, stupefied; artless. 

He'll live till to-morrow ? 

GRACE. 

Possibly much longer — with care. There must of course 
be no drawback. 



62 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
Won't it be a drawback to see Mark ? 

GRACE. 

It will be a great joy. The drawback will be the sense 
of his mistake. 

SIR RALPH, as if vague. 

His mistake? 

GRACE. 
His failure — an hour ago — to be aware that, at the very 
moment he consented to accept as certified the death of 
a possible legatee, that legatee, by the most extraordU 
nary of chances, had passed through his house anci 
might, but for a fatality, have stood beside his bed ! 

SIR RALPH. 

A fatality ? 

GRACE. 

That of his having escaped observation, 

SIR RALPH, conscious, but very emphatic. 

Completely ! 

GRACE. 
And left no sign of his presence. 

SIR RALPH, with the same serene assurance. 
None at all ! (Grace, with an irrepressible nervous movement, turns 

away at this, and he goes on.) So that our poor friend did acccpt 
my cousin's death as certified ? 



ACT FIRST 63 

GRACE. 

With your attestation to sustain him, how could he do 
less ? 

SIR RALPH, complacent. 

My attestation was unconscious of its fallacy ! 

GRACE. 

Just as poor Mr. Bernal was unconscious of your at- 
testaUon ! 

SIR RALPH. 

A fellow shouldn't really do such things ! 

GRACE. 

Return so unexpectedly ? 

SIR RALPH. 

After having vanished so finally. 

GRACE. 

There's no doubt he has behaved very ill ; so that if 
Mr. Bedford does hold out, he'll come off better than 
he deserves ! 

SIR RALPH. 

And if Mr. Bedford passes away — ? 

GRACE. 

Don't the actual dispositions take effect ? 

SIR RALPH, thinking an instant; then just a shade rueful. 

Unless Mark fights. 



64 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
Oh, he may fight ! 

SIR RALPH, prompt. 

Do you think he will ? 

GRACE. 

That would depend on his suspicion of how narrowly he» 

had missed his luck ! 

SIR RALPH, considering, as if olijecting to the expression. 

How " narrowly " ? 

GRACE. 
He might guess that it had hung by a hair. 

SIR RALPH, 

What do you call a hair? 

GRACE. 
Why, your fatal answer to the Vicar. 

SIR RALPH. 
If it was fatal, madam, it was at least perfectly natural. 



GRACE, after an instant 

So is Mr. Bernal's disappointment ! 



4 

Which it's in your power, doubtless, to exacerbate ! 



SIR RALPH, as if with forced and resentful resignation to her 
obj ectionableness. 



ACT FIRST 6s 

GRACE, quiet. 

I don't know what's in my power, Sir Ralph ! We 
never know till we try. 

SIR RALPH. 

Your threats are in shocking taste, if Mr. Bedford's to 
make another will ! 

GRACE. 

Let us take that quite for granted ! (At the door of the library.) 
And now 1 must go back to my letters. 

SIR RALPH. 

Before you do so you'll perhaps let me know the motive 

of this extraordinary aggression. (Then more defiant as, with 
her hand on the door of the Hbrary, Grace only stands looking fixedly at him.) 

What the mischief do you mean by it ? 

GRACE, after a moment more of the same significant and expressive attitude. 

Can't you guess ? 

Exit Grace Jesmond. 

SIR RALPH, alone, staring, wondering; then .is if with a sudden vision of 
the truth. 

By all that's portentous, I can guess ! She wants to make 

me propose ! (Then eager, as he sees Mark Beknal : re-enter Mark 
Bernai. from the right.) Did he knOW yOU ? 

BERNAL. 

The Doctor thought so. He stared for a long moment, 
dear man — then he closed his kind eyes. 

VOL. II F 



66 THE ALBUM 

' SIR RALPH, in suspense. 

Is he much weaker ? 

BERNAL. 

About the same. 

SIR RALPH. 

Then he'll go on ? 

BERNAL, confident. 

If all goes well. 

SIR RALPH, considering; then after an instant. 

And I'm to go up now ? 

BERNAL, looking at his watch. 

At one, please. (Looking round him.) Where's Miss Jesmond ? 

SIR RALPH. 

She has left me, thank God ! 

BERN.AL, surprised. 

Why abnormal gratitude ? 

SIR R.ALPH. 

I'or miraculous relief. vShe wants to marry me. She's 
like the others. 

BERNAL. 

The others ? 

SIR RALPH. 

The old woman and the girl. They've marked me, you 
know. But Miss Jesmond has marked me biggest. 



i 



ACT FIRST 67 

BERNAL, amused. 

In bright red chalk ? 

SIR RALPH, with a nervous wriggle. 

I feel it between the shoulders ! She's an intrigante — of 
a peculiarly dangerous type. 

BERNAL. 

Why, I thought her so charming ! 

SIR R.\LPH. 

She has made up to yoic too ? 

BERNAL, smiling. 

Like the others ! 

SIR RALPH. 

She's a hungry adventuress. 

BERNAL. 

With me it doesn't matter ; I'm not worth their powder. 

.SIR RALPH. 

Because you're poor ? 

BERNAL. 

Because I'm nobody. 

SIR RALPH. 

Be duly grateful. It protects you. 

BERNAL. 

My dear man, I like danger ! 



68 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. ^^ 

You don't knoiv it ! To know it, you must be exposed. 

BERNAL. 

I see — even as you are. 

SIR R.\LPH. 

My position is one of the highest peril. 

BERNAL. 

You're a match, a catch, a swell : you pay for it ! 

SIR R.\LPH. 

I pay too much and too often. I pay with my comfort, 
my health, my nerves ! My nerves are gone to pieces 
— I live in a state of siege ! 

BERNAL. 

But you seem to hold out. 

SIR RALPH. 

There are very serious breaches. It's the modern 
methods of attack — they've reduced it to a science. 

BERNAL. 

Lady Basset's a kind of Moltke ? 

SIR RALPH. 

And Miss Jesmond's a kind of Armstrong ! I vow I'm 
doomed to fall ! 



ACT FIRST 69 

BERNAL. 

My dear fellow, don't you desire to fall ? 

SIR RALPH, 

At my own time, in my own place — not in the din of 
battle, amid the yells of victory. 

BERNAL. 

I enjoy the din of battle ; and the yells of victory have 
only to come from pretty lips — ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Do you mean you actually like women ? 

BERNAL. 

It sounds dreadful, but I should be a brute if I didn't. 
They've been my consolation. 

SIR RALPH. 

They're the luxury of the poor ! You can afford natural 
pleasures. You ought to recognise the fact that your 
limitations are your liberty, 

BERNAL. 
The liberty to love ? May I never lose it ! 

SIR RALPH. 

I shall be glad to assist you to retain it. Remain 
exactly as you are, and you will. 



70 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
I'm afraid there's very little doubt that I shall remain 
exactly as I am. I always have remained exactly as I 
am ! You make me feel indeed a sort of eternal tableau 
vivant, and inspire me to positively decline to rise. But 
while I luxuriate in my limitations, as you so happily 
describe them, what on earth will become oi you ? 

SIR RALPH. 

I shall probably succumb to the mockery of my advan- 
tages and the ferocity of my pursuers. 

BERNAL. 

The real way to escape, my dear man, is to marry. 

SIR RALPH, with a start. 

Marry whom ? 

BERNAL, diverted, staring. 

Any one you like ! 

SIR RALPH, with his hand to his heart. 

I thought you meant Miss Jesmond ! (Giving him his hand.) 
See how my pulse throbs ! 

BERNAL, feeling the hand while Sir Ralph pants. 

You're indeed a wreck ! 

SIR RALPH, instinctively, unconsciously wiping his hand with his pocket- 
handkerchief and going on argumentatively. 

You say "any one I like." But I don't like any one! 
I hate them all, and yet they're always 7vith me ! 



ACT FIRST 71 

BERNAL, after looking at him an instant with amused compassion. 

Let me help you ! 

SIR RALPH. 
Upon my soul, I think you ought ! You've the happy 
lot — the ideal life : you owe something to others ! 

BERNAL. 

But what can I do ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Draw the assailants off — keep them at bay ! 

BERNAL, considering, responding, entering into it. 

While you gain time — get away ? Happy thought ! I'll 
do what I can : I'll cover your retreat. 

SIR RALPH. 

I count upon you ! And your profit, your reward — 

BERNAL, taking the words out of his mouth, gaily expressing the idea. 

Will be in the very nature of the task — the exercise of 
my essential freedom ! 

SIR RALPH, pleased, patronising. 

The exercise, say, of your characteristic genius ! (Then 
after an instant.) In retum for this relief I should be willing 
to entertain the idea of (hesitating a moment) a formal acknow- 
ledgment. 

BERNAL, vague. 

A formal acknowldgment ? 



72 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
Pecuniary ! (Complacent.) You may paint my portrait. 

BERNAL. 

Deliglited. You're a great subject ! 

SIR RALPH. 

But not for a thousand. 

BERNAL, smiling. . 

For how much ? 



« 



SIR R.\LPH, debating an instant ; then with the same complacency. 

For a hundred. 

BERN.\L, with the same good-humour. ^^B 

For a hundred. (Then while Gk.^ce Jesmond reappears.) WHcH 

will you sit ? 

Re-enter Grace Jesmond from the librarj-, with more addressed and 
stamped letters. 

SIR RALPH, privately, with intensity, to Bernal. 

" Sit ? " I can only run ! Cover my retreat ! 

Exit Sir R/.LPH hastily to the right. 
GRACE, eager; keeping her letters. 

Did Mr. Bedford know you ? 

BERNAL, smiling, kind. 

I think I was mysterious to him — very much as you are 
to me ! (Then after an instant.) Are you greatly attached to 
him ? 



ACT FIRST 73 

GR.\CE. 

He has been good to me. I've been of use to him, and 
this beautiful place has been my home. 

BERNAL. 

Shall you leave it — after this ? 

GRACE. 

Naturally I shall leave it. With regret ! 

BERNAL. 

And where shall you go ? 

GRACE. 

I don't know, Mr. Bernal, where I shall go. 

BERNAL. 

Have you no friends ? 

GRACE. 

We don't know what friends we have till we test them. 

BERNAL. 

And have you none of yours whom you've tested ? 

GRACE, smiling. 

I give people the benefit of doubts ! 

BERNAL. 

Don't be too fond of doubts. Try a little confidence ! 



74 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. ^^1 

I daresay I shall have to from this time. You must set 
me the example ! 

BERNAL. I 

Is there anything I can do for you — offer you ? ^1 

GRACE, as if much touched, but smihng, and with a certain gentle mockery. 

You speak as if you were powerful ! 

BERNAL. 

You do right to take me up on it. My situation is 
preposterous — there's indeed no service I can render. 

GRACE. 

Your situation will change — and then you'll become 
conscious of your power. 

BERNAL. 

Even if I do, I don't think I shall believe in it. The 
only thing I've ever believed in is my freedom ! 

GRACE, after an instant. 

Is freedom very sweet ? 

BERNAL. 

Have you never known it ? 

GRACE. 

Perhaps I shall know it now. 



ACT FIRST 75 

BERNAL. 

If I lose mine, I shall take a tremendous interest in 
yours. 

GRACE. 

You're very kind — but you'll lose nothing. The best 
freedom is to be rich ! 

BERNAL. 

Why are you so bent, Miss Jesmond, on my being 
" rich " ? 

GRACE, with genuine intensity. 

Because it costs me too much, here, to-day, to believe 
you're too late ! 

BERNAL, gallant. 

Never too late when in time to see you ! (Then as Lady 
Basset reappears.) And the rcst of this woudcrful Company 1 

Re-enter Lady Basset from the outer hall, again fully equipped for departure. 
LADY BASSET, eager. 

Sir Ralph's not here ? 

BERNAL. 

He's with our cousin. 

L.^DY B.'\SSET, in the same manner. 

The will's made ? 

GRACE. 

The will's made. 



76 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

And what does he get ? 

GRACE, after an instant. 

He gets everything ! 

Re-enter Maud Vanneck from the outer hall. 



1 



LADY BASSET, in the excitement and effusion of the news; inadvertent, 
to Maud. 

He gets everything ! 

Re-enter Teddy Ashdown, dressed to go, with the two bags. 

MAUD, excited. 
Everything ? (Then passing on the news to Teddy.) He getS 

everything ! 

TEDDY, staring. 

Everything ? 

MAUD, enthusiastic. 

Everything ! 

LADY BASSET, re-echoing, jubilant. 

Everything ! 

Re-enter from the right, as she speaks, Sir Ralph Damant, pale and grave, 
who pauses in the doorway at the sight and sound of these demonstrations, 
with outstretched, warning, commanding hands. 

SIR RALPH, with stern authority. 

Ladies and gentlemen, we're in a house of mourning. 
Our generous host and kinsman has passed away ! 



ACT SECOND 

Mark Bernal's studio, Vandyke Lodge, Chelsea ; a bare, im- 
pecunious, but more or less shabbily-picturesque room, furnished with 
Ddds and ends and with various signs of a roving past, hand-to-mouth, 
picnicking habits and a Bohemian manner of life : not vulgar, how- 
ever ; only unconventional and casual. The right side is occupied by 
the high glazed studio north-light. At the centre, toward the right, 
the door to the so-called parlour. At the centre, toward the left, the 
door to street, opening first into a small vestibule. Down on the left 
the door to the kitchen and the pantry. Under the big window an 
Did faded, battered Chippendale sofa. Down on the left an old- 
fashioned but dilapidated " property" chair with a small table beside 
It. Up at the centre, between the two doors, a bare chimney-piece 
mih an unframed picture above it and a table covered with an ancient, 
iamaged piece of brocade in front. Half-way down on the right, with 
its face to the light, a large easel with a big new canvas set up on it, 
and a stand beside it with a colour-box and implements. Down on 
the left a smaller easel with a smaller canvas. Watercolour sketches 
and charcoal drawings are tacked on the walls ; several old and new 
canvases are stacked together on the floor. On stools, chairs and 
promiscuous pieces of furniture are scattered in confusion various 
articles of apparel and homely domestic utensils. The air of the 
whole place disgarnished and makeshift. 

The stage is unoccupied till the bell from the street-door, suspended within 
sight, tinkles on its old relaxed spring. At the sound of the bell Teddy 
AsHDOWN hurries out of the parlour, carrying the retarded breakfast-things 
on an extemporised tray. 

TEDDY, flurried, in extreme dishabille, only his shirt and trousers, without 
a necktie. 

A. sitter? Sir Ralph, by Jove ! (Scuttling down to the kitchen 



78 THE ALBUM 

with the tray.) And nothing washed up ! (Disappears moment- 
arily into the kitchen, where the crash of crockery hurriedly set down is heard 
while the bell again, in the studio, more sharply tinkles. Teddv emerging, 
more e.\cited, looks about among the scattered garments for something more to 

put on.) I'm scarce " washed-up " myself, and (while he catches 

up a pair of braces and fastens them behind) Certainly nOt dreSSCd-Up ! 
(While the.bell sounds a third time he reaches and opens the street-door. Then 
surprised as Lady Basset is disclosed.) Lady BaSSet ! 

Enter Lady Basset. 
LADY BASSET, equally surprised. 

I find you in possession ? 

TEDDY, his braces dangling behind. 

Sadly uncontested — unless you've come for your por- 
trait ! 

LADY B.ASSET, while she looks anxiously round her. 

I've come for Sir Ralph Damant's — knowing his inten- 
tion to sit. 

TEDDY. 

He hasn't sat, worse luck ! We're waiting. 

LADY BASSET. 

You too? What have you to do with it? 

TEDDY. 

I'm employed by Mr. Bernal. 

LADY BASSET, looking at him up and down with extreme disapproval. 

Employed — as a model ? 



ACT SECOND 79 

TEDDY, vague ; then amusedly taking the hint. 

You mean for the — undraped? No, I don't pose — 
except to our creditors ! 

LADY BASSET, with visible rigour. 

Have they left you nothing to put on ? 

TEDDY, feverishly looking. 

Plenty if I can only find it ! (Then when, after buttoning his 

braces, he has laid his hands on a waistcoat, a jacket, and a necktie.) Rc- 

duced by a parent's rigour to a mere miscellaneous 
wardrobe, I've fallen back on my artistic nature. 

LADY BASSET, struck, emphatic 

Just what I've fallen back on ! 

TEDDY. 

Mr. Bernal had been so kind to me in those agitated 
hours at Courtlands that I ventured to come to see him. 
I feel I've a little gift that only requires direction. 

LADY BASSET, encouraged. 

Exactly what / feel ! (Resolute.) He shall also direct 
mine ! — He's out ? 

TEDDY. 

He'll be back in a moment. He kindly puts me up. 

LADY BASSET, struck ; then eager. 

Does he board his pupils ? 

TEDDY. 

On the lowest terms ! 



8o THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

I shall discuss them with him. 

TEDDY, surprised. 

Do you wish him to put you up ? 

LADY BASSET. 

In order to be present at the sittings. 



i 



TEDDY, v.-igue. 

The sittings? 

LADY BASSET. 

That Sir Ralph has promised to give. To watch the 
painter's method. 

TEDDY, after an instant. 

Ain't you afraid he may watch yours ? 

LADY BASSET. 

I have none. I'm a creature of inspiration. 

TEDDY. 

But while you're abandoned to your inspiration what will 
become of dear Maud ? 

LADY B.-\SSET. 

I've thrown her up. (After an instant.) Dear Maud's at 
large ! 

TEDDY, alert. 

Then I may enjoy her? 



ACT SECOND 8i 

LADY BASSET. 

When did I ever prevent you ? 

TEDDY, recollecting, conceding. 

You did give a fellow a chance ! 

LADY BASSET, with abrupt and winning familiarity. 

Then let a fellow give me one! (Appealing sociably.) Back 

me up! (Then after an instant.) I've COHie tO Stay ! (Eager, 
as the street-door opens.) Here hc is ! (Then disconcerted, disap- 
pointed, as Mark Beknal appears : enter Mark Bermal from the street.) 

Oh! 

TEDDY, to Bernal. 

She's come to stay ! 

BERNAL, in informal but recognisable mourning ; comnig down, gay, 
gallant, to Lady Basset. 

That's a note of defiance. We never release the fair ! 

TEDDY. 

She wants to study your method. 

BERNAL, to Lady Basset. 

Of dealing with the fair ? 

LADY BASSET, flattered, arch. 

That I know too well! (After an instant.) Of dealing with 
the timid ! 

BERNAL, sociable, encouraging, moving a chair. 

I begin with asking them to be seated. 

VOL. II G 



82 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, taking the seat. 

I'm not speaking of myself — I'm speaking of Sir Ralph. 

BERNAL, eager. 

You've brought him ivith you ? 

LADY BASSET, alarmed. 

Brought him ? Won't he come of himself? 

BERNAL, unscrupulously amiable. 

He would if he knew you were here ! (Then, as with a happy 
thought, to Teddy.) I say — go and tell him ! 

TEDDY, vague. 

This moment ? 

BERNAL. 

At his noble mansion in Portland Place. 

LADY BASSET, staring. 

Has he moved to Portland Place ? 

BERNAL. 

With his great new wealth ! 

LADY BASSET, rueful. 

While I've been writing to his chambers ! 

BERNAL, prompt, plausible. 

That's why you've had no answer ! He has now set up 
a palace. 

LADY B.-\SSET, much impressed. 

A palace ? 



ACT SECOND 83 

BERNAL, laughing. 

Perhaps I should say a fortress ! 

LADY BASSET, considering, politic, to Teddy. 

Don't go — I'll wait ! 

BERNAL. 
He must go for the beer. ' (Very friendly, to Lady Basset.) If 

you consent to share our fortunes, you'll perhaps share 
our refreshment ! 

LADY BASSET, looking at him ; tenderly significant. 

I'll pretend so — to be alone with you ! 

BERNAL, responsive, smiling. 

I delight to be alone with you / (To Teddy.) Have you 
any money ? 

TEDDY. 

No ; have you ? 

BERNAL. 
Look in the teacup. (To Lady Basset, while Teddy goes up to the 

chimney-piece.) The tcacup's our bank — a bank that's 
always breaking ! 

TEDDY, accidentally, as he reaches up for the cup, knocking it over and 
smashing it. 

It's broke now ! 

BERNAL, as he looks at the fragments ; good-humoured. 

Naturally — with nothing in it ! Won't they trust me ? 



84 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, with renewed archness. 

They're wiser than /, Mr. Bernal ! (Then to Teddy, with her 
hand in her pocket.) But hcrc's a shilling — to get rid of you ! 

(To Bernal, as Tuddy accepts the shilling and he protests with a gesture.) 

I'll take it out in lessons. , 

TEDDY, who has picked up his hat ; at the street door, to Bernal. 1 

I told her your terms were low ! i 

Exit Teddy to the street. 
BERNAL, struck, as if with a happy thought. 

Do you desire a course of instruction ? 

LADY BASSET, simpering. 

I feel I've a little gift that only requires direction. 

BERNAL, amused, encouraging. 
Your little gifts are profuse ! (Then as he picks up the morsels of 
the teacup.) If I fomi a SChool (cheerful, hopeful) I Can gO in 
for a little jug with a slit ! (Having put away the pieces.) 

You're a messenger from heaven — we're living on hopes ! , 



LADY BASSET, vague. 

Hopes of what ? 

BERNAL. 

Of bread and butter. Of my cousin's arrival, and his 

splendid pose. (With the vivid artistic vision — a flouribh of his hand 

before his eyes.) I See his pose already ! 

LADY BASSET, with the same flourish. 

So do I ! 

BERNAL, with sudden ruefulness. 

But what I don't see yet is the " honorarium " ! 



4 



ACT SECOND 85 

LADY BASSET. 

Is it to be SO heavy ? 

BERNAL. 

A hundred pounds — the Millennium. (Sad.) The 
Millennium never comes ! 

LADY BASSET, reassuring. 

I'm not the Golden Age, no doubt ; but I'll pay every 
week. 

BERNAL, gallant. 

Dear lady, you pay every minute ! (Then jovial, making his 

preparations for her lesson, drawing out the smaller easel.) Oh, I shall 

get on — Teddy saves me a butler. 

LADY BASSET, as she draws ofif her gloves, smiling at him engagingly. 

What shall / save you ? 

BERNAL, after an instant ; rising to the occasion. 

The pursuit of lovely woman — if I may worship her at 
home ! 

LADY BASSET, wamingly, with arch-prudery. 

You must speak to me only of Art — for in Art there is 
no Impropriety ! 

BERNAL, gay. 

I quite understand that if there were, you'd never have 

entered (indicating with amused irony his shabby surroundings) this 

dedicated temple ! (Reassuring.) It's a ground on which 
we may meet with perfect delicacy ! (Then after placing a 

drawing-board on the smaller easel) What's the nature of yOUr 

talent ? 



86 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, rising. 
The nature ? (Thinking, while he helps her off with her jacket ; then 

with effusion.) Sincere ! 

BERNAL, giving her a charcoal study of his own. 

Then copy that head — it's nice and fresh ! 



LADY BASSET, with the head, examining it. 

I must do it, you know, as I feel it ! 



I 



BERNAL, anxious. 

Don't "feel" it too much — it may come off! (Then, as 

she has put the sketch on a rest near the easel and seated herself) IJO yOU 

mind if I change my coat ? ) 

LADY BASSET, seated at the easel, beginning her work from the sketch. f 

Don't we agree that in Art there is no Impropriety? » 

BERNAL, amused, while he puts on an old black velveteen jacket taken f 

down from a nail on which he has suspended his other coat. | 

I don't change it for " Art " — I change it for economy. ; 
Do you mind if I smoke a pipe ? i 

LADY BASSET, very vivacious, while she works. 

Do you mind if / do ? 

BERNAL. 

Alas, we've only two, and Teddy has the other ! (Then 

behind her, overlooking her start, while he stuffs and lights his pipe) 

Haven't you got the head awfully in the corner? 

LADY BASSET, leaning back, with her own head very much on one side. 

That's how I feel it ! 



t 



ACT SECOND 87 

BERNAL, amused, resigned, going over to his own easel. 

You feel it in a funny place ! 

LADY BASSET, working. 

My talent's intensely personal. 

BERNAL. 

Forgive me if my remarks are ! 

LADY BASSET. 

Absorbed in my inspiration, I become a monster of in- 
difference. (Then after a fit of rubbing her work and falling back, while 
Bernal lifts the big blank canvas off his easel, stands it against the wall and 
prepares something he can go on with.) What On earth doeS keep 

him ? 

BERNAL, preoccupied, standing at his easel. 

Teddy, with that blessed beer ? 

LADY BASSET, in attitudes. 

Sir Ralph — the false, the faithless ! 

BERNAL, painting. 

He's paralysed by his prudence. 

LADY BASSET. 

He may indeed have been prudent with 7ne, but I can't 
pretend he has been paralysed. I've had startling 
glimpses of his passion ! 

BERNAL. 

Don't build on his passion — it's hollow. 



88 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, uneasy, getting up. m 

Hollow ? 1 

BERNAL, seating himself at his easel as she leaves her place. 

Inane — insane. Fate has marked him to stand alone! 



LADY BASSET, alarmed, protesting. 

Alone ? 



41 



BERNAL, with great sincerity, as he works. 

He's SO rich, so brilliant, so gifted, that he's condemned 
to a splendid soUtude. He sees all men as sordid — he i 
sees all women as venal. A cruel doom has forbidden 
him to believe in human affection. 

LADY BASSET. 

And do you believe in it? 

BERNAL, leaving his easel, smiling. 

I think it's my only faith ! And I've one thing that he 
hasn't — the freedom to cultivate it ! 

LADY BASSET. 

You've cultivated it in vain, since — like him ! — you stand 
alone. 

BERNAL. 

Alone ? Not a bit — with joti here ! 

LADY BASSET. 

You're evidently afraid to marry. 

BERNAL. 

You're quite mistaken. Try me ! 



ACT SECOND 89 

LADY BASSET, startled, vague. 

"Try" you? 

BERNAL, cheerful, encouraging. 
Propose and you'll see ! (Then laughing, as she gives a shocked 

gesture.) They do to Ralph ! 

LADY BASSET, struck, assenting. 

Dear Maud has done it, I know ! (Then after an instant) And 
I strongly suspect Miss Jesmond. 

BERNAL, wondering. 

Miss Jesmond ? 

LADY BASSET. 

I know she has proposed to others ! 

BERNAL, after an instant. 

Well — she has been refused all round ! 

LADY B.^SSET, struck again, alarmed, seizing his arm. 

Do you suppose she has got him now ? 

BERNAL, vague, just wondering again. 

Now ? 

LADY BASSET, with a sudden vision of the truth, while Teddy Ashdown 
reappears : re-enter Teddy Ashdown precipitately, with his tankard of 
beer, from the street, leaving the door open behind him. 



That creature keeps him away 



TEDDY, as he comes down with his beer and Lady Basset turns back to 
her work ; privately and excitedly to Bern.^l. 

He's come ! he's come : his footman's looking for the 
house ! 



go THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, startled ; then, as if abruptly confessing, with great urgency ; 
plausibility, to Lady Basset. 

Teddy announces a model ! 

LADY BASSET, agitated. 

A female ? 

TEDDY. 

The sort of thing you thought / was ! 

LADY BASSET, hesitating. 

For the figure ? 

BERNAL, assenting, smiling. 
But not a female. (Then, on a gesture of Lady Basset's ; as if out of 
consideration for her delicacy) Will yOU retire tO the parlour ? 

LADY BASSET, considering, as if to measure the full bearings of the situ* 
tion ; then majestically catching up her jacket ; to protect her purity. • 

I'll retire ! (At the door of the parlour, which Teddy has opened for her; 

resolute.) I've come to Stay ! 



Exit Lady Basset. 



BERNAL, urgent, to Teddy. 



Stay with her ! (Exit Teddy Ashdown to the parlour, while Bernai 
eagerly meets Sir Ralph, who appears in the open doorway. Enter Sir Ralph 
Damant from the street.) You'vC COme tO sit ? 



SIR RALPH, in deep, distinguished mourning; visibly and unfavourably 
impressed by his cousin's Bohemian accessories. 

Do you consider there's anything to sit on ? 

BERNAL, laughing. 

Some of the chairs have legs, and some have backs — 



I 



ACT SECOND 91 

SIR RALPH, as he looks critically round. 
But none have both ! (Then checking Bernal gravely in the move- 
ment to provide him with a seat.) There are preliminaries — con- 
ditions. 

BERNAL, arrested but amused. 

Why, I thought we had settled them at Courtlands ! 

SIR RALPH, after an instant. 

Do you mean the sum to be paid ? 

BERNAL. 
Paid, my dear Ralph (hesitating, smiling) as soon as you're 
so very good as to pay it ! 

SIR RALPH, surprised and as if resenting his avidity. 

How can I pay it before I judge of the likeness ? 

BERNAL. 
How can you judge of the likeness before I've a chance 
to catch it ? (Laughing.) " First catch your hare ! " 

SIR RALPH. 

Your images make me shudder !— all the more that 
(thanks to the rigour of my mourning !) I've enjoyed 
for a while a period of exemption from the chase. Now 
that I've quitted my retreat — 

BERNAL. 

It's only to remind me of that charming feature of our 
contract — 



92 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
Your guarantee of safety — ! 

BERNAL, interrupting again in turn ; good-humoured. 

Afid resemblance ! So that it's not till I hand you 
these commodities — 

SIR RALPH. 

Over the counter, as it were, that I hand you a hundred 
pounds ! 

(BERNAL, disappointed, but trying to be cheerful ; about to lay his hands 
gaily on Sir Ralph, as if to put him in position. 

The attitude's found — I'll do you in the act ! 

SIR RALPH, struck, approving. 

And call the picture "The Patron of Art," or "The 
Friend in Need " ? Before I can throw myself into that 
character with the requisite calm, I've a deep anxiety to 
allay. 

BERNAL, impatient. ) 

Another ? | 

SIR RALPH. 

There's ahvays another ! How have you disposed of 
Miss Jesmond ? 

BERNAL, blank. 5 

I" 

Disposed of her ? Not at all ! 

SIR RALPH, displeased. 

Then you dori!t carry out our bargain ? 



ACT SECOND 93 

BERNAL. 

5uch a bargain as that ? It takes three to make it ! I 
laven't seen the tip of her nose. 

SIR RALPH, wondering, grave. 

She's lying low ? 

BERNAL, raising and dropping his arms ; irresponsible. 

She has vanished from my ken ! 

SIR RALPH, reflecting. 

She's laying a train. 

BERNAL. 

Then it's a very long one ! You remember when she 
quitted Courtlands ? 

SIR RALPH, assenting. 

The day of her patron's death. 

BERNAL, witli a certain veiled, sarcastic bitterness. 

His patronage had limits — as appeared by his will ! 

SIR RALPH, after an instant. 

Do you allude to his overlooking you ? 

BERNAL. 

To his overlooking her. 

SIR RALPH. 

She had five years of pickings. 



94 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
Do you mean that she still has resources ? 

SIR RALPH, with the same serenity. 

Her character — which is unmistakable — supplies them 
in abundance. 

BERNAL, after an instant ; as if thinking this over. 

If you haven't seen her, how should I ? 

SIR RALPH. 

You were so grossly indiscreet as to boast to her of my 
order. 

BERNAL, smiling. 

Forgive my natural pride ! But if she has found no 
pretext for approaching you — 

SIR RALPH, interrupting. 
I tremble at every ring ! (Then with a violent start, as the bell of the 
street-door sounds out) There she IS ! (To himself, seeing Teddy 

burst out of the parlour to answer the bell : re-enter Teddy Ash down from 
the parlour) And there he is ! (Then to Bf.rnal, while Teddv 

passes to the street-door ; quickly moving to the parlour) Let me CSCapC 1 

BERNAL, alarmed, catching, intercepting him, while Teddy opens the street- 
door and Maud Vanneck appears. 

Not there ! 

Enter Maud Vanneck from the street. 
TEDDY, welcoming Maud ; delighted. 

So jolly of you to look a fellow up ! 



ACT SECOND 95 

SIR RALPH, relieved, but still highly disgusted. 

Permit me to dissent from that ! 

TEDDY, explaining her to the others. 

Lady Basset chucks her. 

MAUD, cheerful. 

But I can face the usual dangers ! 

SIR RALPH. 

That's more, madam, than / can do ! (Then aside to Bernal, 

while Maud allows Teduy joyfully to divest her of her jacket and feather boa) 

I leave the house ! 

BERNAL, genuinely distressed. 

Where'll you go ? 

SIR RALPH, thinking; with dignity. 

I'll drive on the Embankment. 

BERNAL, iirgent. 

And you'll come back — ? 

SIR RALPH, at the street-door. 

When you've worked her off! 

E,\it Sir Ralph. 
MAUD, disconcerted ; with compunction. 

I've driven Sir Ralph away ! 

TEDDY. 

What do you want of Sir Ralph when you've got a fellow 
.ike me ? 



96 THE ALBUM 

BliRNAL, impatient. 

She has got nothing of the sort, Teddy. You'll pleas 
to return to your studies. 

TEDDY, resenting this decree, with injured dignity. 

If you didn't take me, Mr, Bernal, for nothing — 

BERNAL, good-humoured, gay. 

I should take you for a dangerous rival ! And on the_ 
mere chance I banish you ! 



TEDDY, .It the door to the parlour. 

When I can I'll pay you ! 



i 



Exit Teddy Ashdowk. 
BERNAL, to Maid. ; 

To what do I owe the honour of your visit ? J 

MAUD. 

Abandoned by my natural protectors, I've fallen back 
on my artistic nature. I feel I've a little gift that on!}- 
requires direction. 

BERNAL, eager. 

You enter my school ? 

MAUD, rehictant, indicating the parlour. 

Do you mean f/iat place ? 

BERNAL. 

It's there that I hold my class ! 



ACT SECOND 97 

MAUD. 

But where do you paint Sir Ralph ? 

BERNAL, disconcerted. 

Did I tell you too I was to paint him ? 

MAUD. 
Miss Jesmond told me — at Courtlands. You know we 
came away together. 

BERNAL, alert. 

Where did Miss Jesmond go ? 

MAUD. 

She came to London. 

BERNAL. 

And where is she now ? 

MAUD, with asperity. 

I haven't the least idea ! (Then more persuasive.) You must 
let me see you at work. 

BERNAL. 

At work on Sir Ralph ? You mustn't let me see yoji ! 

MAUD, after an instant ; arch. 

Do you fear him too as a rival ? 



BERNAL, blank. 

A rival ? 

VOL. II 



98 THE ALBUM 

MAUD. 
Isn't that what you call Mr. Ashdown ? 

BERNAL. 

As a manner of speaking ! If I fear my cousin as a' 
rival, it's as a rival to Teddy. (After an instant, coaxing.) r 
should like much better to see you at work on him / 
He's a fine little chap, is Teddy. 



\ 



MAUD, impatient. 

Dear Mr. Bernal, I don't want a fine little chap, 
want a man of the world — and a man of means. I want 

social distinction. I want (thinking ; then with vain emphasis) 

oh, I want a lot of things ! 



w 



BERNAL. 

Yes ; you all want a lot of things. I should think it 
would be enough to want a little thing called happiness ! 

MAUD. 

But happiness depends on such a lot ! 

BERNAL. 
Does yours depend on your bringing down Sir Ralph ? 

MAUD, after an instant. 
You're awfully vulgar, you know ! (Then after another instant. 

Do you believe I cayi ? 

BERNAL. 

I believe almost any woman can experiment successfully 
on almost any man. 



ACT SECOND 99 

MAUD, eager. 

Make him love her? 

BERNAL. 

Yes — and make him hate her for doing it! You're 
young, you're pretty, you're clever — 

MAUD, interrupting, complacent. 

And I've had the Higher Education ! 

BERNAL, smiling. 
The Higher, but not the Highest ! (Then more gravely, but 
very kindly.) The cducatioU of UnSClfish affection ! (Pleading, 

sociably, tenderly.) Think a little more of that, and a little 
less of baubles and baronets ! Don't misapply your 
gifts ; don't pervert your youth ; don't harden your 
heart. (After an instant.) Dou't try to get on without love ! 

MAUD, as if struck, incipiently charmed, by his appeal. 

Have yo7i tried ? 

BERNAL. 

Not for a single hour ! I've loved, though I've lost ! 
So, bare as you see me here, I dispense with a lot of 
things. I'm rich in faith. 

MAUD. 

Faith in what ? 

BERNAL. 

In the present woman — whoever she is ! 

MAUD. 

And what do you do about the absent ? 



loo THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, laughing. 

I don't recognise the absent. She's always the loser ! 

MAUD, after an instant. 

If I were to marry you I think I'd look after you ! 

BERNAL. 

I want some one awfully to look after me. 

MAUD. 
With such a person, and (looking rather compassionately round her) 

such a home, you'd enter upon a union — ? 

BERNAL, prompt. 

In a moment — in Teddy's place ! 

MAUD, disconcerted, called back to reality while the bell of the street-door 
rings. 

Oh, Teddy's— ! 

Re-enter Teddy Ashdown precipitately from the parlour. 
BERNAL. 

Teddy's place is to answer the bell. 

^L\UD, eager, while Teddy goes to the door. 

Sir Ralph back ? 

TEDDY, opening the street-door, announcing, exclaiming. 

Dear old Miss Jesmond ! 

Enter Grace Jesmond. 



ACT SECOND loi 

BERNAL, with astonishment and alacrity, meeting her. 

Miss Jesmond ! 

GRACE, who has paused an instant, as if, at the sight of Maud, with a last 
irrepressible hesitation. 

I had your address. 

BERNAL, rejoicing. 

How jolly — it was in that book ! 

TEDDY, sociable, ingenuous. 

Oh yes, in that book ! 

GRACE, pale, tired, appreciably altered ; in simple, economical mourning ; 
addressing Teddy very kindly, but markedly as if to check him. 

I'm glad to find you, Mr. Ashdown. 

MAUD, who on Grace's entrance has passed in visible displeasure to the sofa 
under the window, where she has seated herself ; hearing this. 

Mr. Ashdown ! (Teddv hurries over to her and talks with her.) 
BERNAL, to Grace, in frank wonderment and appreciation. 

You've put on mourning — when he left you nothing ? 

GRACE, at the left, gravely indicating his own garb while she sinks upon the 
other sofa. 

What did he leave yOll ? (Then as Bernal, with a motion as of 
cheerful, resigned dismissal of the subject, places himself beside her.) 1 ye 

come to see you (after an instant) On account of your pro- 
fession. 

BERNAL, struck, amused. 

You too have a little gift — ? 



102 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, vague. 
A little gift ? 

BERNAL, laughing. 

That only requires direction ! 

GRACE, smiling sadly. , 

I'm afraid I've no gift at all — that's exactly why I've 
come. (After an instant.) I must find employment. | 

BERNAL, vague. 

As an amanuensis ? 

GRACE. ' 

I've tried for that — in vain. 

BERNAL, sympathetic. 

Nobody wants one ? 

GRACE, with the same sad smile ; discouraged, resigned. 

Everybody has one ! 

BERNAL, smiling. 

/ haven't, Miss Jesmond ; but on the other hand — 

GRACE, as he pauses. 

You've SO little correspondence ? 

BERNAL. 

I fear it's of a sort (after an instant, laughing) not to be dcputcd 
to another. 

GRACE. 

It's not with that idea that I've ventured to approach 



ACT SECOND 103 

you. (Then after a supreme hesitation.) You'rC the Only artist 

I happen to know — and I've come to suggest myself as 
a model. 

BERNAL, wonderstruck. 

A model ? 

MAUD, overhearing, rising ; to Teddy. 
A model ? (Then as she seizes tlie idea ; with emphatic compunction.) 

That's what / ought to have done ! 

TEDDY, on his feet, equally struck, delighted. 

It's not too late will you sit to me ? (Then eager, to Bernal, 

indicating Maud.) May shc sit tO me ? 

BERNAL, rising, struck, thinking an instant ; then happy to adopt the 
suggestion. 

Certainly — in the parlour ! 

TEDDY, disconcerted, objecting. 

With Lady Basset ? 

MAUD, astonished. 

Lady Basset ? 

TEDDY, explaining. 

She's the Second Pupil. 

BERNAL, insistent. 

The Second Pupil must have the same advantages as 
the First ! Therefore (settling the matter, to maud) you must 
sit to both of them ! 

MAUD, majestic and sarcastic, looking at Grace. 

While Miss Jesmond sits to yon ? 



I04 THE ALBUM 

BEkNAL, after an instant, gay. 

Miss Josmond's professional ! 

Maud, at this, gives a shocked gesture and, as if retiring to avoid some inde- 
corous exhibition, goes up with Teddy, who ushers and follows her into the 
parlour while Bernal returns to Gkace. j 

GR.\CE, who during this discussion has sat motionless, only with her eyes 
attentively wandering over the tell-tale indications of the place. 

Not yet — but I really want to be ! 

BERNAL, on the sofa again. 

You're quite without resources ? 

GRACE, very simple. 

Quite without resources. 

BERNAL. 

You've never been able to save ? 

GRACE. 

I've a sister (after an instant) whoiii I help. Her husband's' 
dying — she has cliildren — she has troubles. So you see 
I must do something — and do it soon. There are 
people I've seen, in past years, at Courtlands — it's to 
those people I've been. It was at Courtlands I svlw you 
— and it's to you I come last. (After a moment.) I've been 
to shops, first. I've been told to come again — and I've 
gone again. But it's the same everywhere — there's 
nothing to be had. It occurred to me at last that I had 
heard of girls who earn money — however little ! — by 



ACT SECOND 105 

sitting to painters ; sitting for the head, the hair, the 
hands, for — what do you call it? — the "type" : in story- 
book attitudes, in short -waisted frocks, in oUl faded 
Kate Greenaway dresses. So I thought there might be 
a demand (smiling again) and that I might — with a little 
patience ! — do something to meet it. I'm perhaps not 
clumsier — nor uglier ! — than some. I'm willing to try 
hard, to do my best ; and if it's only a question of keep- 
ing still — oh, I can do that : so still — so still ! (Then after 

an instant, brave, simple.) Anything tO boil the pOt ! 
BERNAL, who has listened intently. 

Your idea's ingenious — but is there nothing else you 
can do ? 

GRACE. 

I've hunted up and down for a month. And the only 
definite thing I've found is how many others are hunting 
— a thousand partners in the chase ! 

BERNAL, laughing. 

Diana and all her nymphs ! So you've kindly come to 
me — ? 

GRACE. 

In my ignorance of the next best step. 

BERNAL, very kind. 

It's a cruel change^from your life at Courtlands. 

GR.\CE. 

Do you remember you told me at Courtlands that free- 
dom is sweet? (After an instant.) I'm tasting its sweetness ! 



io6 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, after a moment. 

I wish I could assist you ! 

GRACE, with extreme but suppressed apprehension. 

I'm 7iot the " type " ? I've not the appearance — ? 

BERNAL, abrupt. 

You've the appearance, Miss Jesmond, of an angel ! 

GRACE, rising quickly ; concluding. 

But you've simply no present use for me ! 

BERNAL, rising; then with the artist's gesture of evocation. 

I see you perfectly — I place you — I catch you. But 

(with a sad smile and a slow head-shake) I lose yOU again ! ) 

GRACE, looking vaguely about. '^H 

Of course you've plenty of people. (Then after an instant.) DoP 

you happen to know some painter — ? 



\ 



BERNAL, falling in, thinking. 

Who would be ready for such a sitter? There isn't a 
fellow in London who wouldn't rejoice in the chance ! 

(Then feeling his pockets for a notebook ; looking round for something to write 

on.) I'll give you the best addresses. 

GR.-VCE, as he comes down again, finding nothing. 

You're looking for notepaper ? 

BERNAL, embarrassed, ashamed ; still looking. 
We had a sheet last week ! (Then blushing, conscious, smiling, 

while he confesses his destitution.) You'rc not in a land of plenty! 



'I 



ACT SECOND 107 

GRACE, looking at him an instant, then abruptly drawing the sketchbook of 
Act First from under her mantle. 

Write in that. 

BERNAL, recognising gaily his book. 

My album — you've brought it back ? 

GRACE. 
I've brought it back. (After an instant.) I thought you 
might need it. 

BERNAL, laughing, scribbling addresses on a leaf of the album. 

You see I do ! 

GRACE, looking about the place again while he writes. 

It's your only one ? 

BERNAL, writing, preoccupied, smiling. 

My one ewe-lamb ! 

GRACE. 

It was good of you to give it to me. 

BERNAL, still writing. 

Don't praise me — when I take it back ! 

GRACE, smiling. 

I put you to special expenses ! 

BERNAL, tearing out of the album the leaf on which he has written ; folding 
and giving it to her. 

You see I stagger beneath them ! 



io8 THE ALBUM 

GRACK, with the paper, which she slowly puts into her portemonnaie. 

But I also see you have pupils. 

BERNAL, smiling. 

I take them for nothing. 

GRACE. 
You're too generous. (Then after a moment.) But yOU'vC 

had orders. 

BERNAL. 

For portraits ? I've had one, thank heaven ! 

GRACE, after another moment. 

From Sir Ralph Damant ? 

BERNAL, struck. 

You knew it ? 

GRACE. 
You told me at Courtlands. (Then as he gives a lively gesture of 

recollection.) You've had no Other ? 

BERNAL, philosophic. | 

No other. 

GR.\CE. 

Is Sir Ralph finished ? 

BERNAL. 

He's not begun. He begins to-day. 

GRACE, as if definitely influenced by this ; thinking. 

To-day ? 



ACT SECOND 109 

BERNAL, noticing her interest in the question ; attentive. 

He comes to sit — you may meet him. 

GRACE, considering, assenting. 

I see — I may meet him. 

BERNAL, laughing. 

He may meet you ! 

GRACE, who has moved away an instant, and once more has turned her eyes 
over the room ; speaking at last, as she faces him again, abruptly. 

Mr. Bernal — are you very poor ? 

BERNAL. 

Do you suppose if I were not I would decline your 
splendid offer ? The stupid, sordid truth, Miss Jesmond, 
is that I can't afford a model ! 

GRACE, grave. 
I see. (Then with infinite gentleness.) I'm VCry SOrry. 

BERNAL. 

You can't be sorrier than I ! It was awfully nice of you 
to come ; but you've brought your empty pitcher to a 
thirsty land ! 

GRACE, after an instant. 

You're as poor as I am ? 

BERNAL. 

You make me feel much poorer ! And it's the first 
time my condition has seemed to me (bringing out the word 

with expression, resentment) Ugly ! 



no THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
It's the first time mine has seemed to me endurable! 

(Then as she visibly lingers, delays to go, takes another survey of the studio.) 

Do you live without — comfort ? 

BERNAL, laughing. 

With such comfort as you behold ! 

GRACE, taking out again the paper he has given her. 

And these artists are rich ? 

BERNAL. 

They're richer. Do try them ! 

GRACE, looking at the list. 
I'll try them. (Then still stationary, with the list in lier hand.) It's, 

your cousin's hour ? 

BERNAL. 
It's my cousin's hour. 

GRACE. 
Then I suppose I ouQ;ht to go. 

BERNAL, after a moment. 

Your time of course is limited. 

GRACE, continuing to twist her paper nervously, without any movement of 
departure. 

My necessity indeed presses. (Then after an instant.) From I 
the moment my business is over — 



ACT SECOND in 

BERNAL, smiling, as she vaguely pauses. 

You've no reason to stay ? 

GRACE. 

None I can conveniently express. (Smiling.) I'm not, 
like Miss Vanneck, a pupil. 

BERNAL, laughing. 

Nor like my Lady Basset ! (After an instant.) They can 
express their reason ! 

GRACE, as if thinking what this can be ; then bringing it out 

Sir Ralph Damant ? 

BERNAL. 

They want to corner him ! 

GRACE, looking down while she speaks. 

To "corner " him ? 

BERNAL. 
To marry him ! 

GRACE, after an instant. 

Both? 

BERNAL, laughing. 
Both! 

GRACE. 

And they're waiting for him ? 

BERNAL. 

They're waiting for him ! 



112 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, after an instant, smiling, but as if thinking. 

/ won't, then. 

BERNAL, pretendingly jocular. 

You'll call on him at home ? 

GRACE, with her eyes on him a moment in silence. 

Where does he live ? 

BERNAL. 

Portland Place, 130. 

GRACE. 

Thank you. (Then looking again at her list.) If thcsc gentle- 
men employ me — 

BERN.VL, cmphatical but sad, as she pauses. 

You'll be so taken up that I shall never see you again ! 

GRACE, who has finally, wearily put away her paper and gathered her mantlel 
round her. 

Good-bye, Mr. Bernal. 

BERNAL, after an instant. 

Good-bye, Miss Jesmond. 

GRACE, turns away from him as if to move to the door, taking as she does -o 
a supreme look round. Then suddenly, in this act, she falters, totti 
slightly, raises her hand to her head, as if faint or giddy, with an ejaculati' 

of distress. 

Ah! 

BERN.AL, moving, anxious, quick, to her assistance. ( 

You're ill ? 



ACT SECOND 113 

GRACE, reaching out to support herself. 

I'm faint ! 

BERNAL, catching, sustaining her 

You're exhausted — you're quite done ! 

GRACE, panting, trying to recover herself, while Lady Basset reappears. 

Walking over London — since breakfast ! 

Re-enter Lady Basset from the parlour. 

LADY BASSET, stopping short, arrested, scandalised by the sight of Bernal 
closely holding, apparently embracing, Grace. 

Mr. Bernal, what on earth are you doing? 

BERNAL, startled, while he quickly separates from Grace ; embarrassed, but 
smiling and plausibly explaining. 

Setting up my model ! 

LADY BASSET. 
Your model ? (Then struck, inspired, looking from one of them to the 

other.) I've come in to tell you that my little gift requires 
more direction than you seem to have time for. So, 
with leisure on my hands, why shouldn't / perform that 
function ? 

BERNAL. 

Sit for me — in character ? (Gay.) You'd come ex- 
pensive 

-lADY BASSET, who is divested of her hat and is now essentially arranged 
to "stay"; prompt. 

Let it not be a question of money. I'll do it for love ! 

VOL. II I 



114 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, gathering herself together again with a wan smile for Bernai,. 

Profit by such a chance. Good-bye ! 

BERNAL, doubly reluctant now to let her go ; seizing a pretext for detaining 

and refreshing her. 

You've had nothing since breakfast? Models have 
appetites ! (Bethinking himself, casting about.) Tliey particu- 
larly depend on their tea. 

LADY B.VSSET. 

I particularly depend on mine ! 

BERNAL. 

I think there is some — somewhere or other. 

GRACE, pulling herself together. 

Then I won't refuse it. 

BERN.\L, to Lady Basset, invitingly, after he has quickly opened the door 
of the kitchen. 

I daresay it's in there. There's something in the nature 
of a kettle — ! 

L.\DY BASSET, aloof, mindful only of her d'gnity and her clothes. 

Shall I call Mr. Ashdown to make it boil ? 

GR.VCE, suddenly reviving, interposing, catching at the occasion to remain. 

Let »ie make it boil ! (With a brightened smile.) I'm all right 
as soon as I work ! 

BERNAL, unwilling, protesting, while she eagerly unfastens her mantle. 

Work ? Not in your condition ! 



ACT SECOND 115 

GRACK, quite gay. 

Isn't it exactly what my condition wants ? (Then while he 

has helped her off with her cloak and taken it from her.) I'll take off my 
hat ! (Removing and giving it to him to put with the cloak.) And piH 
up the skirt of my only frock ! (Turning up her dress till it shows 
half her petticoat, and passing Bernal a pin.) Will yOU do it ? 

LADY BASSET, watching her with discomfiture as Bernal fastens the skirt 
behind ; to herself. 

Why didn't I think of that ? 

BERNAL, vague, hopeful, to Grace, who has reached tlie door of the kitchen. 

There are things — if you can make them out. 

GRACE, who has taken her hat and jacket back from him ; at the door. 

I'll make them out ! 

E.\it Grace Jesmond. 
LADY BASSET. 

Is there bread and butter ? 

BERNAL. 

I've an earnest trust ! 

LADY BASSET, while Grace reopens the door of the kitchen. 

And any little extra ? 

GRACE. 
Mr. Bernal ! 

BERNAL, while he hurries to Grace and Teddy Ashdown reappears ; 
addressing Lady Basset from the door of the kitchen. 

I'll ascertain ! 

Exit Mark Bernal. Re-enter Teddv Ashdown from the parlour. 



ii6 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY, disconcerted, coming down. 

Dear Maud won't sit ! 

LADY BASSET, preoccupied with her tea. 

Is there any little extra ? 

TEDDY, vague. 

In the course of instruction ? 

LADY BASSET. 

In the course of recreation, (indic.-iting the kitchen.) They're 
making tea. 

TEDDY. 

Oh, we don't have little extras ! 

LADY BASSET. 

I introduce a new system. 

TEDDY, blank. 

How in the world ? 

LADY BASSET. 

What have you done with my change ? 

TEDDY. 
From the beer ? (Pulling out a few coppers and looking at them in de- 
precation.) It ain't enough ! 

Re-enter Maud Vanneck from the parlour. 

LADY BASSET. 

Miss Vanneck — contribute ! 



ACT SECOND 117 

TEDDY, explaining, coaxing. 

To the purchase of some httle extra. (Then as Maud, staring, 

gives a gesture of depressed destitution and the bell of the street-door sounds.) 

It's Sir Ralph ! 

MAUD, while Teddy hurries to the door. 

Get the money from him ! 

Re-enter Sir Ralph by the door that Teddy opens ; then stops in dismay at 
the sight of the two women. 

LADY BASSET, instantly advancing upon him. 

Will you give us half-a-crown ? 

MAUD, engaging. 

To buy some innocent relish. 

SIR RALPH, bewildered, shocked. 

Half-a-crown — for an innocent relish ? (Then as if considering. 
It's a monstrous price ! 

LADY BASSET, persuasive. 

For a treat to Mr. Bernal ? 

TEDDY. 

He has nothing for tea ! 

SIR RALPH. 
Nothing ? (As if reflecting, calculating, while he takes out his purse. 

Then I'll advance — two shillings. 

Re-enter Mark Bernal from the kitchen. 



ii8 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY, to Maud, taking the money. 

I'll be back in a moment ! 

Exit Teddy Ashdown to the street. 
SIR RALPH, to Bernal. 

There are two shillings to deduct. 

BERNAL, amused. 

I'll deduct them ! Shall I also deduct the ladies? 

LADY BASSET. 

Never — till we've had our tea ! 

MAUD, seeing Grace reappear. 

Here it comes now ! 

Re-enter Grace Jesmond with a tea-tray, teapot, cups and saucers. 

SIR RALPH, to himself; still more discomfited and more aghast. 
AlisS Jesmond ! (Then, down on the right, resentful, to Bernal, while 
Grace sets the tray on the table before the chimney and the other ladies clear 

a place for it.) Whcrc's your houour ? 

BERNAL, vague. 

My honour? 

SIR RALPH, indicating the women. 

Your engagement. 

BERNAL. 
To absorb them ? 

SIR RALPH. 
To prevent their absorbing tne ! 



ACT SECOND 119 

BERNAL. 
I have prevented it. They're making love to me ! 

SIR RALPH, dubious. 

Miss Jesmond ? 

BERNAL, after an instant, thinking. 

I'm not so sure of Miss Jesmond. 

SIR RALPH, peremptory. 

Then what's she here for ? (As Bernal hesitates.) She's 
here to make love to vie ! 

BERNAL, after another instant. 

I think you're hard on her. 

SIR RALPPI. 

Didn't she know I was coming ? 

BERNAL. 

I admit she did. 

SIR RALPH, triumphant. 

Then it's proved ! 

BERNAL, affected by wh.it Sir Ralph has said, worried and discomposed ; 
watching Grace an instant at the table with the otlier ladies ; then with a 
nervous laugh. 

Yes it's "proved " ! (He goes uneasily up while Lady Easset, 

carrying a cup of tea, comes down to Sir Ralph.) 

LADY BASSET. 

A cup of tea, dear friend ? 

SIR RALPH, taking the cup from her as if under uncanny coercion ; 
looking at her in deep mistrust. 



What have you put in it ? 



I20 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, beaming. 

My gratitude, Sir Ralph ! 

SIR RALPH, guarded, blank. 

Gratitude for what ? 

LADY BASSET, secure. 

The devotion you promised. 

SIR RALPH, impatient. 

Oh, damn the devotion ! 

LADY BASSET, resentful. 

You withhold it ? 

SIR RALPH, looking at her hard a moment ; then politic, accommodating. 

To your very good health ! (He drains down the cup, under her . 
eye, with submission, then hands it summarily back to her ; after which she 
goes up to put it down and Maud descends on the other side with a plate of 
bread and butter.) She haS drugged it ! (Then very sarcastic, as 
Maud offers him her bread and butter.) What liave I Dromiscd 

you ? 

MAUD, sad, sentimental. 

Nothing, alas ! 

SIR RALPH, turning unceremoniously away from her. 

Then I decline your poison ! i 

He crosses to the other side of the .stage, as if to break with her for ever, and .she, 
checked in her overture, discouraged, goes up again with her plate. Teddy 
A.SHDOWN meanwliile has re-entered from the street with his purchase, which 
he lays down on table before the others ; coming down immediately after to 
Sir Ralph. 



ACT SECOND 121 

TEDDY, giving Sir Ralph a sixpence and coppers. 

The change. 

SIR RALPH, looking at the money. 

Elevenpence ? 

TEDDY. 

Tenpence ! 

He goes up while Sir Ralph pockets the money, and as he rejoins the others 
Grace Jesmond, who has drunk her tea and turned away from the table, 
stands looking an instant at Sir Ralph. Then she comes down to him while , 
Bernal, who has noticed her movement, continues to observe her 

GRACE, with veiled irony, to Sir Ralph. 

Immensely graceful of you to sit ! 

SIR RALPH, with decision. 

I shall not sit ! — I object to the conditions ! 

GRACE, with repressed emotion. 

You'll not keep faith ? 

SIR RALPH. 

It's he who has broken it ! 

GRACE. 

I beg you to accept the conditions. 

SIR RALPH. 

Accept you as one of them ? 

GRACE, feeling the impertinence, the insult of this ; then quickly controlling 
herself; with a smile. 

Am I one of the worst, Sir Ralph ? 



122 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
The worst for his job ! 

GRACE, considering. 

I should be very sorry to injure Mr. Bernal. 

SIR RALPH. 
You do awfully, you know, by your conduct. 

GRACE, still wondering. 

In what manner can I modify it ? 

SIR Ri\LPH. 
By ceasing to spring up in my path ! 

GRACE, smilin-. 

I only spring up to check your retreat ! 

SIR RALPH, demurring to the term. 

My "retreat"? 

GRACE. 

From your agreement to assist Mr. Bernal. (After nn 
instant.) Mr. Bemal needs assistance. I 

SIR RALPH, curt, iinp.-\tient. ' 

Why on earth should he ? 

GRACE, indicating tlic whole place. 

Look about you and see ! 



ACT SECOND 123 

SIR R.^LPH, after a glance. 

I see a lot of women! — Mark likes 'em! (Then after an 
instant.) I'll sit if he'll clear the place. 

GRACE. 
He will — of those ladies. 

SIR RALPH, sharp. 

But not of you ? 

GRACE. 

If he turns me out he'll separate me — (Pausing, significantly 

hesitating.) 

SIR RALPH. 

Separate you — ? 

GRACE, smiling. 

From you, Sir Ralph ! 

SIR RALPH. 
That's exactly what I demand ! (Turning away from her, he 
crosses to the other side of the stage.) I Say, Mark ! (Then on Bernal's 
coming down as Grace goes up.) You'U have tO take that girl 

by the shoulders ! (On Bernal's bianUness.) To put her out. 

BERNAL, thinking, demurring, while he looks at Sir Ralph. 

I'm more and more struck with her charm ! 

SIR RALPH, as if scandalised. 

Her charm ? 

BERNAL. 

Her spirit, her cleverness, her character ! The more 
you've reason to dread her the more she needs my eye ! 



124 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 
Your eye can rest a bit. I let you off. 

BERNAL. 

It's a joy as well as a duty ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Your joy should be to paint my portrait, and to clear 
the place for the purpose. 

BERNAL, prompt. 

I'll clear it ! (Then to the others.) As I uiust get to work 
with Sir Ralph I beg my pupils to retire! 



LADY BASSET, resentful. 

Without seeing your method ? 



1 



BERNAL, bending over her hand, kissing it in farewell. 

This, dear lady, is my method ! (Then urging her up to the 

parlour with Maud.) Put On yOUr lovely things ! (Indicating all 

the tea-things.) Teddy, removc ! 

LADY BASSET, at door of the parlour ; to Bernal. ^ 

Begin — while I dress ! ^J 

E.\it Lady Basset. 
MAUD, to Sir Ralph, at the door of parlour. 

That takes her an hour ! 

Exit Maud Vanneck, while Teddy Ashdown, gathering up the tea-things, 
goes out with them to the kitchen and Sir Ralph, with bare patience, sits 
rigidly detached on the sofa under the window. 



ACT SECOND 125 

GRACE, to Eernal. 

Do you begin immediately ? 

SIR RALPH, resolute. 

We don't begin till you've gone. 

GRACE, to Bernal. 

Before I go I should like to speak to Sir Ralph. 

SIR RALPH, rising in dismay. 

Again, Madam ? 

GRACE, to Bernal. 

If you'll give me the fortunate chance. 

BERNAL. 

Do you mean alone ? 

GRACE, smiling. 

I mean alone ! 

BERNAL, who has looked at her hard an instant ; m3-stified, perplexed, tor- 
mented by everything that appears to give colour to Sir Ralph's account 
of her. 

Shall I leave you, Ralph ? 

SIR RALPH, falling back helpless and hopeless on the sofa. 

I meet my doom ! 

BERNAL, at the street-door, having taken up his hat and holding up an 
empty tube of oilcolour. 

There's a chap next door — I'll borrow some blue ! 

Exit Mark Bernal. 



126 THK ALBUM 

GRACE, who has taken up from the table where Bernal has placed it after 
tearing out the leaf the album of Act First. 

Allow me to ask (after an instant, while she looksat the book) if yOu'vC 

ever seen this. 

SIR RALPH, from the sofa, with his glass. 

That ? 

GRACE, holding out the album. 

This sketchbook. 



SIR RALPH, struck, then slowly rising. 

Seen it ? — Where ? 

GRACE. 
At Courtlands — the hour you arrived. 



SIR RALPH. 

How can I remember what I saw the hour I arrived? 



« 



GRACE. 

Mr. Ashdown can remember. He told me. 

SIR RALPH, startled, staring. 

Told you ? 



4 



GRACE. 

Half an hour later. That you had seen Mr. Bernal's 
name. 

SIR RALPH. 

His name — where ? 

GRACE, handing him the album. 

On that page — with that date. 



I 



ACT SECOND 127 

SIR RALPH, with the album ; looking hard an instant at the page ; then 
hard an instant at Grace. 

I believe I have. What then ? 

GRACE. 

You denied it — in my own presence. (Then after an instant.) 
You denied it to the Vicar. 

SIR RALPH, after looking at the book again, chucking it away as if with 
indignant impatience. 

What the devil are you talking about ? 

GRACE. 

About the great wrong you were guilty of. You deceived 
a dying man — you robbed a living. 

SIR RALPH. 
Living? I didn't dream he was living ! 

GRACE. 
It seems to me that book might have made you dream ! 

SIR RALPH. 

It would if I had seen it in time. 

GRACE. 

You did see it in time — in time to show it to Mr. 
Ash down. 

SIR RALPH, staring, as if recalling. 

That was after the Vicar — 



128 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, as he just hesitates. 

Had put you that solemn questioTi ? No, Sir Ralph; 
Mr. Ashdown has satisfied me that it was before. 

SIR RALPH. 

Satisfied you ? How ? 

GRACE. 

By his comparison of notes with me, and by his positive 

I 

declaration. 

SIR RALPH. 

His positive declaration's a lie. 

GR.\CE, after an instant. 

Will you say that to him ? 

SIR RALPH. 

With all the pleasure in life ! 

GRACE, passing to the kitchen. 

Then I'll call him to hear it ! 

SIR RALPH, as she reaches the door. 
A moment. Madam. (Then after an instant abrupt, as slie stops with 
her hand on the latch.) What is it yOU Want ? 

GRACE, vague an instant. 

Want ? 

SIR RALPH. 

To let me alone. (As she leaves the door.) I aslccd you that, 
you know, at Courtlands. 



ACT SECOND 129 

GRACE. 

Yes, and I told you to guess. 

SIR RALPH, after an instant. 

I couldn't guess so soon. 

GRACE. 

Can you guess at present ? 

SIR RALPH, after consideration. 

Fifty pounds ? 

GRACE, echoing, stupefied. 

Fifty pounds ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Not enough ? A hundred ? (Then at a loss; as she only stands 
looking at him.) Il's UOt mOUey ? (.As if with a fuller vision of the real 
question and his inevitable fate.) It's the otJlO' tiling? 

GR.\CE, back at the kitchen, while Mark Beknal reappears. 

It's the Other thing ! 

Exit Grace Jksmond. 
SIR R.VLPPI, aghast, fatalistic, to himself, as Bernal comes in. 

Marriage ! 

Re-enter Mark Beknai. from the street. 

BERN.VL, struck, arrested by Sir Ralph's appearance and discomposure ; 
speaking with the note of real anxiety. 

She has proposed ? 

SIR RALPH, throwing up his arms from his sides and letting them fall. 

She has proposed ! 

VOL. II K 



I30 THE ALBUM 

RERNAL, dismayed, credulous. 

And you've accepted ? 

SIR RALPH. 

I've asked for a minute ! 

HLRNAL, wonderstruck, turning it over. 

A minute ? 

SUi RALPH. 

To decide — to think ! 

BERN,\L, uneasy, painfully mystified ; throwing himself quickly, in the 
interest of delay, of diversion, into the question of the portrait ; shifting 
his easel. 

That's it — you'll decide at your ease ; you'll tliink while 

you sit ! i 

■' \ 

.SIR RALPH. 
I'll be hanged if I'll sit ! (Then after an instant, while Bernal 
stares with dismay.) At any rate nOt here. (As Teddv reappears : 
re-enter Teddv Ashdown from the kitchen.) 1 11 Sit at homC. 

TEDDY, surprised, ejaculating. 

At home ? 

SIR R.\LPH, looking very hard at Teddv. 

At home. 



TEDDY, mystified, bewildered by the way Sir Ralfh glares at him, 
fascinatedly returns his stare ; then to I'ernal. 

May I go out ? 



ACT SECOND 131 

SIR RALPH, precipitately interposing. 

Go out ? Never ! 

BERNAL, surprised, pleading. 

Dear Ralph, it's his day ! 

SIR RALPH, in alarm. 
His " day " ? (Ihen, while the two ladies reappear; as if everything is 
overwhelmingly against him.) McrCy 0)1 US ! 

Re-enter Lady Basset and Maud Vanneck from the parlour, dressed for 
departure. 

TEDDY, delighted. 
I'll go with t]iein ! (Then to the ladies, indicating Sir Ralph.) 

He'll sit at home ! 

LADY BASSET. 
At home ? (Coming down to Sir Ralph, who, on the right, has collapsed 

upon the sofa.) I shall bc there ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the street, the door to which Bernal holds open. 
MAUD, coming down to Sir Ralph ; disgusted. 

I shall 7iot ! 



She goes up as Bernal comes down, and is received by Teddy, who offers her 
his arm. Exeunt Teddy Ashdown and Maud Vanneck to the street. 



SIR RALPH, who has sat engulfed in reflections, wholly heedless of what the 
two women have said to him, rises grave and pale ; then to Bernal. 

I've decided ! 

BERNAL, eager. 

You refuse ? 



132 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, fatalistic. 

I accept ! 

BERNAL, dismayed. 

On the spot ? 

SIR RALPH. 

II .S to conic ! (Lifting and dropping his arms to his sides as before.) ' 
L,ct It come ! (Then as Grace reappears : re-enter Grace Jesmond 
from the kitchen, dressed to go.) MisS JcsmOnd ! 

BERNAL, still more alert, anticipating, interposing. 

Miss Jesniond ! 

SIR RALPH, while Grace, surprised, arrested by the intensity of Bernal's 
tone, stands looking from one of the men to the other. 

I've sometiiing to say to you. 

BERNAL, strenuous, insistent, with a gravity and anxiety- altogether new, like 
his whole aspect and manner in wliat follows. 

/'ve something to say first ! 

GRACE, uncertain. 

To iiie, Mr. Bernal ? 

BERNAL, indicating Ralph. 

To him ! (Then very urgent.) While I Say it wiU you kindly 
wait ? 

GRACE, still more vague. 

Wait ? 

BERN.-\L, who has opened the door of the parlour. 

In there ! (Grace hesitates an instant, looking in the same wondering per- 
plexity from one of the men to the other. Then, after resting her eyes intensely 
on Bernal's, she abruptly decides and goes quickly into the parlour. Bernal 



ACT SECOND 133 

closes the door on her and, with his eyes on Sir Ralph, stands a moment holding 
the handle. Then coming down with decision, and with the rising passion of all 

his doubt in the question.) That girl — after your fortune ? 

SIR RALPH. 

After my fortune and (hesitating an instant, as if in resentment at 

that's being thought his only attraction, while he smartly taps his breast) 

after me ! 

BERNAL, worried, frowning, challenging, incredulous. 

You say she proposed ? 

SIR RALPH, very definite. 

She made me an offer ! 

BERNAL. 

But of what ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Why, of her hand — and her person. 

BERNAL, amazed. 

You didn't understand her ! 

SIR RALPH. 

It was painfully clear. 

BERNAL, after an instant. 

My dear Ralph — I don't believe it ! 

SIR RALPH, after another instant. 

You impute to me — misrepresentation ? 



134 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
I impute to you aberration! (Then as if he can't get over it.) 

You intend to marry her ? 

SIR RALPH, fully determined ; as if with the resignation of the highest 
wisdom and enlightenment. 

It will keep her quiet ! 

BERNAL, dissuasive, ironic. 

An intrigante — of a dangerous type ? 

SIR RALPH, demonstrating his cleverness. 

I conjure the danger away ! 

BERNAL, almost derisive. 

A hungry adventuress ? 

SIR RALPH. 
I thought you contested that ! (Then as Bernal, in his agitation, 

moves nervously away.) She has beauty — and mind ! 

BERNAL, echoing, realising. 
Beauty and mind ! (Then in a different tone, with high decision.) 

My dear fellow, you mustn't do it ! 

SIR R.'\LPH, irritated at his opposition. 

To oblige you ? 

BERNAL, after an instant. 

To oblige me ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Pray, are you in love with her ? 



ACT SECOND 135 

BERNAL, evasive. 
If I am, it's your fault. (As ifU settles the matter.) YoU told 

me to be ! 

SIR RALPH, positive. 

I told you to pull Up ! 

BERNAL. 

It was too late to pull up — and it's too late now. 

SIR RALPH, more uneasy, suspicious, wondering. 

Now ? 

BERNAL, smiling. 

I want to keep on ! 

SIR RALPH, in still deeper disapproval and alarm. 

Paying your court ? 

BERNAL. 

Paying my court ! 

SIR RALPH. 

To make her your wife ? 

BERNAL, 

Xo make her (in deep uncertainty, agitation, distraction, faltering) I 11 

be hanged if I know what ! 

SIR RALPH, as if following up an advantage and looking about him in 
reprobation. 

The partner of your misery ? 

BERN.AL, in despair, troubled, impatient compunction. 

Yes I'm too deadly poor ! (Then after an instant, with returning 

clearness and resolution.) But I do knOW what I want. I 

want to prevent you ! 



136 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, wound up, taking up the challenge. 
You shan't prevent me! (Then at the door of the parlour, which he 
has quickly opened.) MisS JCSniOnd ! 

BERNAL, as quickly opening the door to the street, while Grace reappears. 

Miss Jesmond ! 

f Re-enter Grace Jesmond. 
SIR RALPH, pressing. 

Will you do me a favour ? 

BERNAL, forestalling her answer ; passionate. 

Will you do me one first? , j 

GRACE, still more mystified by their heated aspect ; looking from one to the 
other and then addressing Bernai.. 

Anything — (or you ! 

BERNAL. 

Then walk out of the house ! 

GRACE, startled, pained, for the moment, by the manner of the request. ) 

Out of the house— ? I 

BERNAL, feverishly peremptory ; pointing to the open door. ' 

This moment ! \ 

GRACE, looking once more from one of the men to the other as they stand on 
either side of the stage ", then, with a visible effort, deciding and sadly, 
supremely addressing Bernal. 

Good-bye ! 

Exit Grace Jesmond. while the two men st.and defiantly confronted. 



ACT THIRD 

Sir Ralph Damant's drawing-room in Portland Place ; hand- 
some, cold, conventional and characteristic. A door at the centre 
from the hall and staircase ; doors right and left from other reception 
rooms. 

Grace Jesmond is seated in her hat and cape; not the same garments as in 
Act Second, but, as to mourning, perceptibly modified and brightened. The 
Footman who has appeared in Act First enters from the hall. 

FOOTMAN. 

I find Sir Ralph is 7iot at home, Miss ; but he gave 
orders that if you should call you were to be particularly 
asked to wait. 

GRACE. 

Till he comes in ? 

FOOTMAN. 

He may be expected at any moment. 

GRACE, after an instant. 

When were these orders given ? 

FOOTMAN. 
On Thursday, Miss, on our return from Vandyke Lodge. 

(Then expansive, as if glad of an opportunity to converse.) I waS there 

with the carriage — and I joined in the chase. 



138 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, struck. 

The chase ? 

FOOTMAN. 
For you, Miss. Sir Ralph drove hard — to catch up 
with you. 

GRACE, after an instant ; quiet. 

He didn't catch up. 

FOOTMAN, smiling. 

We had wasted precious moments. 

GRACE. 

You mustn't waste them now. 

FOOTMAN. 

He remarked that you'd turn up ! 

GRACE, after reflection. 

Since I'm expected, I'll wait. 

FOOTM.\N, increasingly sociable. 

We've another party in another room. 

GR.\CE, rising, wondering. 

Another party ? 

FOOTMAN. 

From Vandyke Lodge. 

GRACE, startled, changing her mind. 

I believe, after all, I won't wait ! 



ACT THIRD 139 



FOOTMAN, as Teddy appears. 

Here's the other party. 



Enter Teddy Ashdown from the right. 
GRACE, dropping into her chair again with relief. 



Oh! 



TEDDY, much pleased. 

You're just the person I want ! 

FOOTMAN, privately; ironical. 

All of 'em ? Gracious ! 

Exit the Footman to the hall. 
GRACE, rising again ; anxious. 

Is Mr. Bernal here ? 

TEDDY. 

He'd be if he suspected you are ! I'm looking for him, 
and he's looking for Miss Jesmond. 

GRACE. 
He's coming for the portrait ? 

TEDDY. 
By appointment. They've patched it up. 

GRACE, vague. 

The portrait ? 

TEDDY. 

Oh no — their quarrel ! 

GRACE, still vague. 

Their quarrel ? 



I40 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY. 
About you ! I know what happened. 

GRACE, smiling. 

That's more than I do, Mr. Ashdown ! 

TEDDY. 

Then I'll tell you. 

GRACE, postponing. 

\Vhen does Mr. Bernal come ? 

TEDDY, looking at his watch. 

Not till twelve. He put me on a 'bus with the traps — . 

they're all in there. (indicating the adjoining room.) He's I 

walking to save the fare. 

GRACE. 

Then he'll take some time ? 

TEDDY. 

He crawls along — because he looks out for you in the 
streets. He peeps under every bonnet ! He has sent 
me to all those fellows for news of you. 

GRACE. I 

The artists ? I've been to none of them. j 

TEDDY. 

He said you'd require to go. 

GRACE. 
I do "require"! (Then after an inst.nnt.) But I don't gO. 



ACT THIRD 141 

TEDDY, after a moment. 

You come here instead. 

j 

i GRACE. 

I come here instead. 

TEDDY. 
But not, I fear, for Mark. 

GRACE. 

Not for Mr. Bernal. For Sir Ralph Daman t. 

TEDDY, after another moment. 

,Was it for Sir Ralpli you came to icsl 
\ 

GRACE. 
It was for myself. 

TEDDY. 

That was what their row was about— when Mark was so 
irude. 

! GRACE. 

j How rude was Mr. Bernal ? 

TEDDY. 
Rude enough to repent ! He has repented fearfully of 
what he did to you. 

GRACE, after an instant. 

He asked me to leave his house. 

TEDDY. 
Oh, he has told me ; he talks of nothing else ! 



142 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
I've talked of it — to no one. 

TEDDY, alert. 

Then you've forgiven him ? 

GRACE, with the same smile. 

I've forgiven him. 

TEDDY, with the same eagerness. 

May I tell him, when he comes ? 

GRACE, after an instant. 

I've asked you before to keep a secret. 

TEDDY. 
About that sketch-book? (With emphatic satisfaction.) I'vC 

kept it ! 

GRACE. 

Beautifully. Then keep this one. 

TEDDY, vague. 

Your forgiving him ? 

GRACE. 

My being in this place. I wish not to see him. 

TEDDY, perceptibly mystified. 

And yet you remain ? 



ACT THIRD 143 

GRACE. 

)nly for one reason, — that if I go now I shall not have 
;ourage to return. 

I TEDDY. 

''Courage"? 

GRACE. ■ 
;t was not easy ! 

TEDDY. 

To face Sir Ralph ? Why, / have to ! 

GRACE, after a moment. 

^es — you have to. 

TEDDY. 

: do it for Mark ! 

GRACE, after an instant ; with her tired smile. 

\nd /do it for " Mark "! To render him a service. 

TEDDY, eager. 

Then you like him ? 

GRACE, hesitating, but still smiling. 

Vou ask too many questions ! 

TEDDY. 

I asked that one because he likes yor 

GRACE. 

I guessed so when he turned me out. 



144 THE ALBUM 

TEDDY. 

Did you? He has been afraid you wouldn't ! 

GRACE. 
I didn't at first. But then I thought about it. 

TICDUY, syinpalhctically interested. 

And tiien it came to you ? 

GRACE. 

Little by little, (.\fier a moment.) It cauie to me last nij 

•lEDDY. 
And that brought you here ? 

GRACE. 
Early, as you see. To acknowledge his favour 1 

TEDDY. 
But how — if you don't meet him ? 

GRACE. 
I shall meet Sir Ralph. 

TEDDY, alert. 

Meet him and refuse liim ? 

GRACE, conseiou>ly lilank. 

" Refuse " him ? 

TEDDY, surprised at her blankness. 

Doesn't he want to marry you ? 
t 



ACT THIRD 145 

GRACE, grave. 

Quite the contrary ! 

TEDDY. 

And you don't want it ? 

GRACE, with controlled emotion ; after an instant. 

Has he asserted that ? 

TEDDY. 

To Mark — on Thursday. You made him an offer. 

GRACE, rising quickly. 

Which he saw reason to accept — precisely ! 

TEDDY. 

It was why Mark banished you. To separate the parties 
— to avert the danger ! 

GRACE. 

To prevent Sir Ralph's accepting ? 

TEDDY. 

To choke him right off! 

GRACE, eager. 

Mr. Bernal believed it? 

TEDDY, vague. 

That Sir Ralph would ? 

VOL. II L 



146 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 

No — that I had done such a thing. 

TEDDY, after an instant's reflection. 

It didn't prevent him from wanting you — 

GRACE, as he modestly pauses. 

"Wanting" me? 

TEDDY. 

For his own use ! 

GRACE, dropping into a seat again; sitting there an instant in thought ; then 
rising and with frankness and courage, as well as with a forced gaiety in- 
tended to dissimulate her sadness and make her discussion of such a matter 
with Teddy pass. 

Mr. Bernal may " want " me, Mr. Ashdown ; but Mr. 
Bernal can't have me ! 

TEDDY, vague, disappointed. 

Can't have you ? 

GRACE. 

It ties my hands. 

TEDDY, blank. - 

I don't understand ! 

GRACE. 

I do — at last! I had thought it all out — but you 
greatly help me. 

TEDDY, kind, simple, loyal. 

I want to greatly help you. 

GRACE. 
You did so, you know, at Courtlands. 



ACT THIRD 147 

TEDDY. 
By holding my tongue ? It was hard ! 

GRACE. 

I shall set you to-day an easier task. You will be so 
good as to speak. 

TEDDY, alert. 

Tell Mr. Bernal— ? 

GRACE, interrupting. 

That I'm in the house. 

TEDDY. 

But where shall you be ? 

GRACE, at a momentary loss ; looking round her, then pointing to the door 
on the left. 

In there. 

TEDDY. 

Why not in here ? 

GRACE. 

So you may prepare him. 

TEDDY, hlank. 

" Prepare " him ? 

GRACE. 
Give him his choice — of seeing me or not. 

TEDDY, laughing. 

He'll take it ! (Then more gravely.) And if I speak for you, 
1 will you speak for me ? 



1 



148 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, vague. 

To wliom ? 

TEDDY. 

To " dear Maud." I want her — for my own use ! 

GRACE, smiling. 

I'll approach her — if I've a chance. 

TEDDY, with resolution. 

ril make you one ! 

Re-enter the Footman from the hall. 
FOOTMAN, to Grace. 

Mr. Bernal. 

GRACE, startled. 

Coming up ? 

FOOTMAN, who has crossed to the door on the left, which he has opened. 

If you'll pass in there. 

TEDDY, anxious, while Grace reaches the other room. 

Can I trust you ? 

GRACE, at the door, with a smile. 

If you can trust her ! 

Exit Grace Jesmond to the left. 
FOOTM.\N, explaining, after closing the door on her. 

Sir Ralph's orders. 

^ TEDDY, vague. 

His orders ? 



ACT THIRD 149 

FOOTMAN. 

If Mr. Bernal should come. 

TEDDY, disconcerted. 

He's not to see her? 

FOOTMAN, self-complacent, responsible. 

For fear of complications ! 

TEDDY, disgusted ; thinking. 
Why, what does Sir Ralph call that 2 (Then seeing Bern al.) 

Silence ! 

Enter Mark Bernal from the hall. Exit the Footman to the hall. 
BERNAL, 

Ralph's not here ? 

TEDDY. 

I've been waiting. 

BERNAL. 

With everything ready ? 

TEDDY, embarrassed, at fault. 

Not yet ; I thought — 

BERNAL, breaking in ; with kindly impatience. 

You think too much — you always did ! (Then indicating the 

door on the right.) Be quick ! 

TEDDY, demurring, hesitating. 

Before I go — 



15° 



THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, as he pauses. 



Before you go ? 

TEDDY. 

Miss Jesmond's in the house ! 



BERNAL, amazed. 
TEDDY. 



Here? — now? 

She told me to tell you. 

BERNAL, eager, 

Then I can see her? 



TEDDY. 



You can see her. 



BERNAL, struck, in the midst of his relief ; mistrustful, wondering. 

But what's she doing ? 

TEDDY, vague. 

Doing ? 

BERNAL. 

For what purpose has she come ? 

TEDDY. 

For the purpose of helping you. 

BERNAL, blank. 

But how in the world — ? 



TEDDY. 



I give it up ! 



ACT THIRD 151 

BERNAL, uneasy, peremptory ; suddenly nervous and discomposed ; passing 
his hand over his head. 

Make ready ! 

Re-enter, as he speaks, the Footman from the hall. 
SERVANT, announcing. 

Lady Basset ! 

BERN.\L, starting, as if struck with a quick idea, then still more imperative, to 
Teddy, who has lingered, looking at him, with a hand on the door at 
the right. 

Leave us ! 



Exit Teddy Ashdown to the right. Enter Lady Basset from the hall. 
Exit the Footman. 



BERNAL, as if amused. 

How did you get in ? 

LADY BASSET. 

The butler passed me up. (jubilant, exultant.) I'rn invited ! 

BERNAL. 

By Sir Ralph ? 

LADY BASSET. 

By Sir Ralph. (Triumphant.) He wants me ! 

BERNAL, surprised. 

For what ? 

LADY BASSET, with lively confidence. 

You'll see when he comes ! 



152 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
But he doesn't come! (Looking at his watch.) You must 
help me to bear it. 

LA"DY BASSET, self-complacent, coquettish. 

I helped you, you know, to bear it the other day ! 

BERNAL, preoccupied with the idea of Grace's presence. 

Indeed you did — immensely ! 

LADY BASSET. 

We had recourse to my artistic nature. 

BERNAL, vague. 

Do you wish to have recourse to it again ? 

LAUY BASSET, after serious reflection. 
Not to the same extent. (Then with serenity and lucidity.) If 

I was present the other day as an artist, I'm present 
to-day as a woman. 

BERNAL, with the same vagueness as before. 

Is it in that capacity he has sent for you ? 

LADY BASSET, blank. 

In what other capacity, pray — ? (After an instant.) The 
very servants recognise it ! 

BERNAL, not following. 

Recognise it — ? 

LADY BASSET. 

By their eagerness to usher me in ! 



ACT THIRD 153 

BERNAL, suddenly struck ; with a light. 

In here — to me ? 

LADY BASSET, vague, surprised at the point he makes of this. 

They mentioned I should find you ! 

BERNAL, as the fuller light breaks upon him ; with amused elation ; 
seizing her arm. 

That's what he wanted of you ! 

LADY BASSET, blank, disconcerted. 

To amuse you ? 

BERNAL. 

To captivate me — as he wants me to captivate you ! 

LADY BASSET, candid, jovial. 

You do, my dear man ! 

BERNAL, laughing. 

And so do you ! 

LADY BASSET. 

But why does Sir Ralph desire it ? 

BERNAL 

To protect himself. He fears you. 

LADY BASSET, e.xultant. 

I feel that he does ! 

BERNAL, amused and relieved by his discovery. 

I see it all ! 



154 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET. 

All what ? 

BERNAL. 
Why, he means you to draw me off! 

LADY BASSET, vague. 

Off somebody else ? 

BERNAL, smiling. 

A person he wants for himself! 

LADY BASSET, struck, alarmed. 

For himself ? (Then with quick dismay.) Maud Vanneck ? 

BERNAL, amused. 

No, not Maud Vanneck. 

LADY BASSET, thinking ; then with eager intensity. 

Grace Jesmond ? 

BERNAL. 

She's in the house ! 

L.\DY BASSET, still more alarmed. 

Invited ? 

BERNAL. 

No, not invited — he hasn't her address. 

LADY BASSET. 

She has come of herself ? 

BERNAL, after an instant, as if recognising the full gravity of this. 

She has come of herself. 



ACT THIRD 155 

LADY BASSET, stupefied, scandalised. 

What effrontery ! 

BERNAL. 

Her reason is doubtless good. 

LADY BASSET, as if struck with the tone in which he says this. 

You're in love with her ? 

BERNAL. 

Ralph thinks so. 

LADY BASSET, imperative. 

Then for God's sake marry her ! 

BERNAL, after an instant ; troubled, sincere. 

How can I — in my position ? 

LADY BASSET, coinciding. 

Yes — she's after money. (Then with decision.) But she won't 
get it ! 

BERNAL. 

Do you mean that you will ? 

LADY BASSET, after an instant. 

Sir Ralph is pledged to me. 

BERNAL, uncertain, bewildered, nervous. 

Then why does he want hcrl 

LADY BASSET, blank a moment ; then with resentment. 

Because he's false ! 



156 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL, pleading. 

Ah, no — he's honest ! (After an instant.) Scc how he makes 
us meet ! 

LADY BASSET. 

You and me ? 

BERNAL. 

For you to swallow me up ! 

LADY BASSET, impressed with the unsuspected truth. 

And you to swallow me ? 

BERNAL, smiling. 

So that you won't have room for hitn ! (After an instant.) 
You admitted just now that there wasn't much ! | 

LADY BASSET, with decision. 

You're a very brilliant man, but I reject you. 

BERNAL. 

Ralph has counted on your appreciating me enough — 

(Hesitating, pausing, as if with a last scruple ; then in a changed tone.) Hang 

it — I can tell you now ! \ 

LADY BASSET, eager. 

To let Sir Ralph off? 

BERNAL. 

To be merciful. 

LADY BASSET. 

For the benefit of that creature ? Never ! 

BERNAL. 

You really hold out ? 



ACT THIRD 157 

LADY BASSET. 

Against you ? I loathe you ! 

BERNAL. 

And you permit me to loathe back ? 

LADY BASSET. 

If you love another woman ! 

BERNAL. 

I haven't told you I do ! 

LADY BASSET. 

That's because you're such a flirt. You won't part with 
one victim — 

BERNAL, laughing, interrupting. 
Before I make sure of another? (Then again preoccupied.) 

Yes, I must make sure. (After an instant.) And while I'm 
making sure — 

LADY BASSET. 

/ shall be doing the same ! 

BERNAL, amused. 

You'll be all there? 

LADY BASSET, with clear resolution. 

All here ! 

BERNAL, after a moment's intense reflection ; going up to the hell, 
which he ring . 

I must see my way ! 



I5S THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, vague. 

What are you doing ? ; 

BERNAL. 
I'm making sure ! (Re-enter the Footman from the hall. To the 

FooTMAN.) Am I correct in believing that Miss Jesmond's 
in the house ? 

FOOTMAN, embarrassed." 

Did the young gentleman tell you, sir ? 

BERNAL. 

Of course the young gentleman told me. 

FOOTMAN. 

Would it do for me, then, to deny it ? 

BERNAL, staring. ^m 

Deny it? Why should you deny it? ^Bl 

FOOTMAN. 

Because Sir Ralph said she wasn't to see you. 

BERNAL, struck ; then with high decision. 

Then he should be at home to prevent it ! 

FOOTMAN. 

He may be at any moment, sir. 

BERNAL. 

Then I must see her quickly ! 



ACT THIRD 159 

FOOTMAN. 

I'll inform her. 

Exit the Footman to the left, leaving the door open. 
I LADY BASSET. 

She can scarcely be said to shrink ! 

BERNAL, amused. 

If you compare it with yom- shrinkage ! 

LADY BASSET. 

Mine, such as it is, forbids me to witness your en- 
counter ! 

BERNAL, indicating the room on the right. 

Then kindly pass in there. 

LADY BASSET, vaguely demurring. 

In there ? 

BERNAL. 

Where Sir Ralph's to sit. 

LADY B.\SSET, at the door, alert. 

I'll wait for him ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the right. Re-enter Grace Jesmond from the left. 
GRACE, pausing where she enters. 

i asked Mr. Ashdown to tell you of my presence — 
strange as it must inevitably appear to you. 



i6o THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 

As your presence must appear ? 

GRACE. 

No — as my request to him must. 

BERNAL. 

In the light of the extraordinary leave I last asked you 
to take of me ? It's to explain that monstrous proceed- 
ing that I have begged for these \vords with you. I've 
hunted for you hard, but in vain — to make you hear 
them. 

GRACE. 

There is a word I myself should like to speak. (After an 
instant.) The simple request to you to believe — 

BERNAL, waiting, as she pauses. 

To believe ? 

GRACE. 

Nothing Sir Ralph Damant may say of me. 

BERNAL. " 

You're aware then of what he has in fact said ? 

GRACE. 
It's because I think I divine it that I've come here. 

BERNAL, after an instant. 

Not, I suppose, at his request. 

GRACE, 

He couldn't request me — in ignorance of where to find 
me. 



ACT THIRD i6i 

BERNAL. 

The ignorance you've me to thank for ! 

GRACE. 

As I do thank you, Mr. Bernal. 

BERNAL. 
You thank me for showing you the door, for turning you 
out of my house ? — turning you without mercy into the 
great city you had scoured in vain, and in which I 
myself soon enough cursed the folly that had deprived 
me of a possible clue to you ? 

GRACE. 

We meet again in spite of that folly. 

BERNAL. 

We meet again in spite of it. (Then after an instant.) But we 
meet again in a manner to which it would take but little 
more of my perplexity to make me prefer our separation. 

GRACE, after a hesitation. 

Is that because you do believe Sir Ralph ? 

BERNAL. 

If he has told me a strange story of you, why do you, 
on your side, take a step which gives a detestable 
colour to it ? 

GRACE. 

This step of coming to see him ? Because it's the only 
way to say to him — something that I have to say. 

VOL. II M 



1 



i62 THE ALBUM 

BERNAL. 
I've no right whatever to ask you what that may be. 

GRi\CE. 

I've a limited power, none the less, to tell you. He has 
misunderstood nic ; and it is important to me that he 
should be informed that he has. 



i 



BERNAL. 
Important ? (Then after an instant, half-impatient, half-pleading.) AK, 

zv/iy is it important ? 

GRACE, hesitating, momentarily embarrassed. 

I'm afraid I can only say to you — because I hold it to be ! 

BERNAL, with an apologetic, penitent gesture. 

I insult you with my curiosity when I only wanted to, 
convince you of my regret. It was my respect for you 
the other day, that made me use a freedom ! 

GR.\CE. 

The sense of that respect consoles me ! 

BERNAL 

I'm delighted to hear it ; but what's to console me ? 

GRACE, after an instant. 

For what, Mr. Bernal ? 



ACT THIRD 163 

BERNAI,. 

For seeing Sir Ralph Damant again stand between us ! 

GRACK, after another instant. 

Excuse me if I don't perceive how it should matter to 
you where Sir Ralph Damant stands. 

BERNAL. 

« 

You saw how it mattered the other day ! 

1 GRACE, quiet. 

I saw the fact, but not the reason, (Then with a sad smile.) 

You ask me, I think, for more explanations than you 

give ! 

BERNAL, admitting this ; speaking very kindly. 

You must be generous with me, for I'm much troubled. 

GR.\CE. 

It's because you're much troubled that I'm here. (Then 

while he stares ; explaining.) I SaW yOUr pOOr homC the Other 

day, and I heard your confession. 

i BERNAL, struck, alert. 

Of want of means ? 

I GRACE, tender, indulgent. 

My intrusion, my appeal brought it out. 

BERNAL. 

' So that you're here for money ? 



i64 THE ALBUM 

GRACE, after an instant. 

I'm here for money ! 

BERNAL, wondering, amazed. 

For my relief? 

GRACE, after another pause. 

Are you too proud to accept relief? 

BERNAL. 

If I'm proud at all, Miss Jesmond, I'm proud of having 
inspired — by such an accident — such a sympathy ! 

(After an instant.) YoUT cliarity is (hesitating for his word ; then bring- 
ing it out with an extravagance of warmth in which there is just a shade of the 
irony of his imperfect creduHty, his sense of strangeness) magnificent ! 

GRACE, gentle. 

Such as it is, it's all my motive ! 

BERNAL, going on. 

Still more magnificent is your belief in my cousin's 
sensibility. 

GRACE. 

You mean it's extravagant? (After an -nstant.) It would be 
— if I hadn't grounds for it. 

BERNAL, struck. 

Grounds ? (Then after reflection.) Shall I Strike you as the 
most graceless of men if I venture to ask what they are ? 

GRACE. 

1 can't tell you, Mr. Bernal, what they are ! 



ACT THIRD 165 

BERNAL. 

And yet you said just now that you give more explana- 
tions — 

GRACE, as he hesitates. 
Than yon do ? (After an instant.) I waS Wrong. (With pathetic 

dignity.) I feel that I don't give enough ! 

BERNAL, worried, agitated, almost feverish. 

You give enough to enchant me, but not enough to 
satisfy ! Why should you wish to remedy my preposter- 
ous predicament ? 

GRACE. 
Because I regret it ! 

BERNAL, with the same troubled spirit as before. 

Your " regret " is more mystifying than the step for 
which it accounts, and your good faith only ministers, 
somehow, to the impulse that makes me challenge you ! 

GRACE. 

My ambiguity is my misfortune. 

BERNAL. 

Say rather it's mine ! If I appealed to you just now 
kindly to see me, it was to make my own behaviour 
clear. How ca?i I make it clear— 

GRACE, interrupting. 

If I don't make mine ? — You can't ! 



i66 THE ALBUM T 

I 

I 
Enter Sir Ralph Damant from the hall. Re-enter at the same moment 

Lady Basset from the right. 

BERNAL, to Sir Rali'H, wlio has his latchkey visible and has stopped short, 
deeply disconcerted, on finding him with Grace. 

I asked to see Miss Jesmond. 

GRACE, to Sir Ralph. 

I arrived before Mr. Bernal, 

LADY BASSET, on the right. 

/ arrived after ! 

SIR RALPH. 

And I've arrived last of all ! (Controlling with an effort, as he comes 
down, his discomfiture at Mark's meeting with Grace, and taking now the 
line of a smoothly astute and diplomatic manner of dealing with his difficulties.) 

I've been detained, but I'm all the more pleased to find 
you gathered ! i 

GRACE, grave. 



I've not presumed you'd care to find me. 



4 



SIR RALPH, urbane, engaging, gay. 

Then I must teach you presumption ! I bid you 
welcome to Portland Place. 

LADY BASSET, impatient but majestic. 

And have you no welcome for another friend ? 

SIR RALPH. 

The warmest, dear lady. I summoned you to be 
present at the sittings. 

LADY BASSET, disappointed at the inadequacy of this expI.Tnation. 

I should still have been if you hadn't ! 



ACT THIRD 167 

SIR RALPH, imperturbable ; indicating the room on the right. 
They take place there. (Then motioning her to pass out again.) 

Be so good as to await me. 

LADY BASSET. 

While you dally with Miss Jesmond ? 

SIR RALPH, answering the question but addressing Grace. 

To make up for the occasion of which Mark so cruelly 
deprived me ! 

BERNAL, gay. 

I've made up a little, on my side, for the loss I equally 
suffered ! 

SIR RALPH. 
I take my revenge in kind! (Opening the dnor on the right and 
pointing the way out to Bernal.) Bc SO gOOd aS tO IcavC the 

room. 

BERNAL, troubled, demurring. 

This moment ? 

SIR RALPH. 

This moment ! 

BERNAL, at the door ; looking .Tt Grace ; after an instant. 

Good-bye ! 

Exit Mark Bernal to the right. 

SIR RALPH, to Lady Basset, while Grace, with emotion, nervous, restless, 
wanders up to a window on the left. 

VVon't you join him? (Then .as her attitude appe.irs a refusal ; in- 
sinuating.) He admires you ! 



i68 THE ALBUM 

I.ADY BASSET, staring; as if stupefied. 

Do you mean by that that you don't ? 

SIR RALPH, conciliator', heroic. 

My admiration's of a different strain ! 

L.\DY BASSET. 

Such as it is, I'm here for you to show it. 

SIR R.\LPH. 

I do sllOW it 1 am showing it. (Then as he indicates the open 

door and other room again.) By this privilege ! 

LADY BASSET. 

That of Mr. Bernal's company? 

SIR RALPH, pleadingly argumentative. 

Doesn't he tell you what he thinks of you ? 

LADY BASSET. 

Every one does that ! 

SIR RALPH, still pleading. 

/ will — in three minutes ! 

LADY BASSET, at the door ; having looked at her watch. 

I shall time you ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the right. 

SIR RALPH, having closed the door and remaining an instant at the right, 
while Grace is up at the left. 

I followed you in vain, and it was sweet of you to come! 



ACT THIRD 169 

GRACE, coming down. 

It may have been "sweet," Sir Ralph, but it has not 
been easy ! 

I SIR RALPH. 

It gives me the chance to say what I wanted so much 
to say ! 

GRACE, seating herself. 

And it gives me the chance to hear it ! 

SIR RALPH. 

What I wanted to say is that I accept your proposition. 

GR.\CE. 

Are you very sure, first, that you understand it ? 

SIR RALPH, surprised at her question. 

There was surely little room to blink it ! (Then after an 
instant.) And I've taken my time to consider. 

GRACE, very quiet. 

I gather then the fruit of my exertions. 

SIR RALPH. 

If your exertions were extraordinary, you must admit 
that the fruit is splendid ! 

GRACE. 

There's nothing so splendid as the triumph of justice. 



I70 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, struck, demurring. 

Do you call it by that name ? 

GRACE. 

By what name do you call it ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Generosity — extravagant ! But we won't quarrel about 
the description ! 

GRACE. 

We won't quarrel about anything, in the presence of the 
accomplished fact. 

SIR RALPH, wincing, momentarily failing. 

That's a description that, I confess, does give me a 

start ! (Reflecting with intense gravity.) It brings my pOsitlon 

home to me. 

GRACE. 

Exactly where it should be brought. 

SIR RALPH. 

I'm a bit of a fatalist ; it's the finger of doom ! My 
line of argument has been that sooner or later I should 
feel the knife at my throat— //^z?'^ to make the sacrifice ; 
and that it constitutes after all the purchase of my 
freedom. 

GRACE. 

When you have paid the price your freedom will be 
perfect ! ■• 

SIR RALPH, struck, e.-iger. 

I may do as I like — I may go my way ? 



i 



ACT THIRD 171 

GRACE. 

My dear Sir Ralph, I'll never speak to you ! 

I 

I 

I SIR RALPH, following up the conception of this advantage ; thinking. 

lAnd of course, on that footing, nobody else will ! (More 
confident.) Nobody clse caji ! 

GRACE, confirmatory. 

There'll be nothing left to say ! 

SIR RALPH. 

Precisely, no locus standi, (ingenuous.) Tliat's the one 
thing that reconciles me. 

GRACE, after an instant. 
The one thing ? (Then as he stares, struck, incipiently alarmed by her 

intonation.) No scntimcnt — no emotion ? 

SIR RALPH, still st.aring ; plainly surprised. 

Since you press me, Madam, none whatever ! 

GRACE. 

The mere bald concession ? 

SIR RALPH, more m.arkedly surprised, even scandalised at her qualification 
of his sacrifice. 

Do you consider it such a trifle to " concede " my 
existence? 

GRACE, blank. 

Your existence ? 



172 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH. 

Even with what I reserve ! My fortune, my position, 

my name ! 

GRACE. 

Your name ? What have I to do with that ? 

SIR RALPH, bewildered. 

You don't propose to bear it ? 

GRACE, rising. 
Heaven forbid, Sir Ralph! (Then lightly and quietly, as he stares, 

stupefie.i.) You make me an offer ? 

SIR RALPH, with precipitate and indignant eagerness. 

Never in the world ! 

GRACE. 

Then what are you talking about ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Your horrible ultimatum ! , 

GRACE, after an instant. 

It's your impression that I've made you an offer ? 

SIR R.\LPH. 

Twice over, in so many words ! . t 

\ 

GRACE. * 

Which you've done me the honour to accept ? 

SIR RALPH. 

f 

For the advantage I've named ! 1 



ACT THIRD 173 

GRACK, amused, smiling in spite of her disgust and dismay. 

Your view of the "advantage" touches me ! I did make 
you an offer, Sir Ralph, but it was only the offer of a 
chance. 

SIR RALPH, vague, anxious. 

A chance ? 

GRACE. 

To make a restitution — to divide your inheritance. 

SIR RALPH, staring; with his assurance flickering back. 

Divide it with yoti ? 

GRACE. 
With Mr. Bernal. That was my " ultimatum " ! 

SIR RALPH, dropping, overwhelmed, into the seat from which Grace 
has risen. 

That? 

GRACE. 

I appealed to you to give him his share — the share he 
would clearly have enjoyed if your kinsman had lived 
another day. 

SIR RALPH, with the same amazed ruefulness. 

Make him a present of a fortune ? 

GRACE, simple. 

Two thousand a year. 

SIR R.\LPH, after an instant during which he has risen. 

So that you may offer to marry hi/n ? 



174 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
You exaggerate my impatience to marry. 

SIR RALPH. 

You exaggerate mine to indulge in preposterous gifts ! 

GRACE, after an instanL 

You don't accept your chance ? 

SIR R.\LPH. 

You must permit me to view it in the hght of reason 



GRACE. 

That's exactly what I appeal to you to do. You treated 
me just now to the argument of security. Let me treat 
you to the same ! Your security is your honour. 

SIR FL\LPH, after an insUnt. 

And my honour, you seem to imply, is your sport ? 

GRACE. 

I daresay I could have a game with it ! 

SIR RALPH, after another instant 

With that little ass to help you ? 

GR.\CE. 

Mr. Ashdown ? He's in the other room. 

SIR RALPH, with excited derision 

Quite the Chamber of Horrors ! 



ACT THIRD 175 

GRACE. 
I should apply that title to this one. 

SIR RALPH, as she moves to go. 

I You leave me, Miss Jesmond ? 

I 

GRACE, at the door to the hall. 

I've corrected your mistake. 

SIR RALPH, still with his nervous and ironic laughter. 

Won't you give me your address ? 

GRACE, blank. 

' For what purpose ? 

i 

SIR RALPH. 

I may have a word to say to you ! 

i 

, GRACE, after an instant's hesitation. 

If you have a word to say, say it to Mr. Bernal ! 

I 

SIR RALPH, smiling. 

It may not do — for Mr. Bernal ! 

1 

GRACE, turning to the door again. 

Then it won't do for me ! 



SIR RALPH, as she has her hand on the door ; with a sudden complete, 
quite violent change of manner and accent. 

Miss Jesmond, listen to me ! (Then as Grace, struck, arrested 

by this transformation, stops short, looking at him.) YoU Say yOU've 



176 THE ALISUM 

corrected my mistake ; but I confess I've made mor< 

than one ! (Grace, as if, after a momentary hesitation, under the influence 
of a puzzled hope that his oddly altered tone may denote his readiness to do llje 
justice she has demanded, comes slowly a few steps down, while he goes on.) 

I told you a while ago that if I stood ready to marry 
you it was without sentiment, without emotion. But 
those words were a wrong to you — they were a greater 

wrong to myself. (She continues to rest her wondering, expectant ey^s 
on him, and he proceeds with gathered assurance.) 1 hc emotlOll, 

charming woman, has come — the sentiment insists 0)i 

a voice. (Then, under the permission of her silence, producing his confident 

climax.) I make you, Miss Jesmond, the proposal that 1 
regret you didn't make me ! 

GRACE, after a moment of intensely controlled disappointment and horror; 
with the cold irony of her stupefaction. 

Your mistakes are sufficiently strange ; but I think your 
corrections are stranger ! 

SIR RALPH, insistent, persistent. 

You say that you offer me a chance ; but what is it com- 
pared to the chance I offer you ? What you ask of me 
for another, I press on you for yourself! (Then with an e.\- 

asperation rising from the vision of the incorruptiuility with which she stam!-. 

there.) Do you mcasurc what I mean and what I possess ? 
Can you reflect on it and refuse ? I've guessed your 
poverty ; I've sounded your depths. Without a home, 
without protection in this cruel city, consider in what a 

refuge you stand ! (Then as she simply turns from him with a move- 
ment that expresses all her sickened inaccessibility, and he has got between htr 
and the door to the hall, more and more urgent and imperative, half-pleading, 
half-resentful and altogether passionate.) YoU really rcfuSC ? ' 



ACT THIRD 177 

GRACE. 

To be bought off? (With an almost wild motion of clearing him from 
her path, while the door opens from the hall and the Footman reappears : 
, re-enter the Footman from the hall.) Let me gO ! 

FOOTMAN, announcing. 

Miss Vanneck ! 

Enter Maud Vanneck from the hall. 
I SIR RALPH, disconcerted, overwhelmed, furious, to the Footman. 

Who let Iier in ? 

MAUD, serene. 

The butler, Sir Ralph ; I asked for Lady Basset ! 

FOOTMAN. 

Your things are put out, sir. 

SIR RALPH. 

; Things ? What things ? 

1 

FOOTMAN. 

To sit for your picture, sir — the costoom. 

SIR RALPH. 

Damn the costoom ! 

Exit Sir Ralph rapidly to the hall, while the Footman holds open the door 
Exit the Footman. 

GRACE, to Maud. 



You asked for Lady Basset ? 

VOL. II 



178 THE ALBUM 

MAUD. 

To take me out again. (After an instant.) I find I can't 
face them ! 

GRACE. 

Face what ? 

MAUD. 

The usual dangers. 

GRACE, with a sad, sincere smile and headshake. 

They're horrible ! Don't try. (Then after a moment.) Don't 
trouble Lady Basset. I'll take you out. 

MAUD, surprised. 

You, Miss Jesmond ? Where ? 

GRACE. 

Out of this house, to begin with. It's not a very nice 
place ! 

MAUD, struck with her tone and air ; then kind. 

I see it has been horrid somehow (or jou — and yet you 
have ideas for others. 

GRACE. 

I've ideas for Mr. Ashdown ! He asked me to speak 
for him. 

MAUD. 

Is he here ? 

GRACE, turning away as she sees Bernai.. 

Ask Mr. Bernai. 

Re-enter Mark Bkrnal from the right. 



ACT THIRD 179 

MAUD, joyous, spontaneous, to Bernal, who has stopped short on finding 
Grace still in the room. 

Why, Miss Jesmond's charming ! 

GRACE, facing about again quickly. 

She says so because I spoke to her of Mr. Ashdown. 

BERNAL, behind whom the door of the other room has closed ; to Maud. 

He's in there with Lady Basset. 

MAUD. 

And what's Lady Basset doing ? 

BERNAL. 
Waiting for Sir Ralph. 

MAUD, with striking ingenuousness. 

How very vulgar ! 

GRACE, to Bernal, smiling. 

Miss Vanneck's not here for that ! 

BERNAL, to Maud. 

'I It wouldn't help you if you were ! 

GRACE, to Bernal, urgent. 

You must appeal for your friend. 

BERNAL, to Grace. 

Your friend too, Miss Jesmond. He simply adores you. 



i8o THE ALBUM 

MAUD, struck. 

Does he indeed ? 

GRACE, amused. 

Because I intercede ! 

RERNAL. 

I've interceded too ! (To Maud.) Didn't I struggle hard 
for him ? 

MAUD. 

At Vandyke Lodge ? (After an instant.) I've not forgotten 
it! 

GRACE, to Maud. 

Let him struggle for himself ! 

BERNAL, to Maud. 

Shall I call him in ? 

MAUD, at the open door on the left ; hesitating ; then to Grace. 

What's beyond that room ? 

GRACE, smiling. 

A conservatory. 

MAUD, to Bernal. 

Please call him ! 



Exit Maud Vanneck to the left. Bernal opens door on the right, 
and on his summons re-enter Teddv Ashdovvn. 

GRACE, to Teddy. 

I've spoken for you ! 

TEDDY, eager. 

To dear Maud ? 



I 



ACT THIRD i8i 

BERNAL, indicating the left. 

She's in the conservatory. 

TEDDY, at the door on the left, in suspense, his hand to his heart. 

Will she have me ? 

BERNAL. 

Go and see ! 

TEDDY, ardently, to Grace. 

Benefactress ! 

GRACE, grave, sad. 

Ah, don't call me tJiat ! 

TEDDY. 

i Then angel ! 

BERNAL, laughing. 

Keep that for Miss Vanneck ! 

TEDDY, indicating Grace. 

' Then you thank her ! 

I E.\it Teddy to the left. 

GRACE, smiling sadly. 

You shouldn't, for they haven't a penny ! 

'I 

BERNAL. 

What of that ? No more have we ! 

i 

\ GRACE, vague. 

1 "We"? 

BERNAL, seeing Sir Ralph. 

I It doesn't matter ! 



i82 THE ALBUM 

Re-enter Sir Ralih Damant picturesquely dressed to sit for his portrait ; a 
costume carefully selected and studied. 

SIR RALPH, stopping short, in high displeasure, on seeing Bernal 
reunited to Grace. 

You've come back ? 

BERNAL, with a gesture of abdication, of frank, final confession. 

My necessity forced me — I expected to find you. 

•(After an instant.) I tlirOW Up my charge. 

SIR RALPH, aghast, kidicating the room to the right. 

That woman ? 

BERNAL. 

That avalanche ! I can't arrest its course ! 



SIR RALPH, dismayed, indignant. 

You don't appreciate her ? 



BERNAL. 

I can't handle her, and I judged it right to notify you 

SIR RALPH, thinking intently, in his alarm. 

She's not amenable — ? 

BERNAL. 

To any argument I can use ! 

SIR RALPH. 

But she has plenty of her own ! 

BERNAL. 

I perceive them, but somehow 1 resist them ! 



f 



i 



ACT TPIIRD 183 

SIR RALPH, contending, protesting, insisting. 

Such brilliant points ? 

BERNAL. 

She doesn't see mine ! 

SIR RALPH. 

You told me she did ! 

BERNAL. 

It was what she first told me ! But now she takes it 
all back. 

SIR RALPH, in deeper dismay the more he thinks. 

Back? 

BERNAL. 

She objects to me ! 

SIR RALPH. 

And you object to her ? 

BERNAL. 

I'm not so rude as to tell her so — but I do ! 

SIR RALPH, in the tone of indignant injury ; scandalised. 

Do you call such an objection loyal ? 

BERNAL, blank. 

" Loyal " ? 

SIR RALPH. 

After all I have done for you ! 

BERNAL. 

Pray what have you done ? 



iS4 THE ALBUM 

SIR RALPH, pulled up, embarrassed an instant, by the question ; then 
indicating, with angry fatuity, the nobleness of his appearance. 

Dressed myself — as you see ! 

BERNAL, taking him in, up and down. 

For your portrait ? 

SIR RALPH, exhibiting himself. 

As the " Patron of Art " ! 

BERNAL. 

My dear Ralph, my art must go unpatronised ! (With the 

note of rueful melancholy, but smiling.) No SOng HO SUppCr ! 
SIR RALPH, outraged. 

You won't paint me ? 

BERNAL, 
Wasn't I to paint you only if I saved you ? 

SIR RALPH, with a wail of despair. 

So I'm lost ? 

BERNx\L, seeing Lady Basset. 

Ask her ladyship ! 

Re-enter Lady Basset from the right. 

LADY BASSET, pausing at the door and glaring with majestic reproach 
and displeasure at Sir Ralph. 

I've come for you ! 



ACT THIRD 185 

SIR RALPH, in mortal anguish. 

Come for me ? 

' LADY BASSET. 

jl gave you three minutes. 

SIR RALPH, looking at his watch, confessing in despair his transgression. 

And I've taken thirty ! 

BERNAL, to Lady Basset, indulgently extenuating, explaining. 

You see, there's to be no portrait ! 

SIR RALPH, eagerly, in the same way. 

I'm not to sit to him. 

LADY BASSET, staring an instant ; then formidably indicating the open door. 

Then you're to sit to me ! 

SIR RALPH, demoralised, tragic, looking blankly at the open door while she 
points the way out ; and then, with the climax of despair, appealing supremely 
to Mark Bernal. 

Help me ! 

BERNAL, hesitating, thinking an instant ; then indicating Grace as, after 
having wandered up the stage in impatient suspense during his dialogue 
with Sir Ralph, she now comes down again. 

Help me! 



SIR R.ALPH, as if with the last terrified lucidity of reflection, the sudden 
dawn of a new idea, which he leaps at, making up his mind, while his eyes 
move an instant from Grace to Bernal and while Lady Basset still stands 
in control of the open door. 

Wait for me ! 

Exit Sir Ralph to the right. 



i86 THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, to the others, smiling triumphantly. 

He'll not be long ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the rigl i 
BERNAL, to Grace. 

I bade you good-bye ; but, thank heaven, you were kept 
for me ! 

GRACE. 

I was kept by my occupations. 

BERNAL. 

The first of your occupations now (tender, ardent) must be 
to forgive me ! 

GRACE. 

For believing a story so monstrous ? 

BERNAL. 

I didn't believe it, but it puzzled me ; it puzzled me 
because I cared — I mean because I loved you ! (Then, 

as she starts at this, turning away.) I hadn't the right tO tell yOU 

so, any more than I have it now ; and that made me 
wild, it made me mad, it made things crooked and dark 
to me. 

GRACE, very sad. 

And still they're not straight, not clear ! I've tried to 
serve you, but I haven't served you yet. 

BERNAL, passionate. 

You serve me at this moment by letting me tell you 

that I trust you ! 

GRACE. 

What if you trust me to little profit ? 



ACT THIRD 187 

BERNAL. 

"he "profit " is the joy of confidence ! The confidence 

i Vas there though I was troubled ; it was there though ' 

j was mystified. I want no proof that you're precious, 

jDr the only thing I ask of you is to let me deserve 

our charity ! 

GRACE. 

.^ou make me almost want to have failed — in order to 
lave the right to listen to you. You must never be able 

say of me that my effort was half for myself. 

1 BERNAL. 

I 

jive up your "effort" — give up what exposes and 
livides us ! How can I possibly desire any boon that 
las made you cruelly suffer for me ? 

GRACE, after quick, intense reflection. 

haven't cruelly suffered " for " you ; but (with another pause 
if hesitation) I belicve I could suffer with you ! 

J BERNAL. 

j/ou shan't, if you'll take me ; I declare you shall only 
pnjoy ! You'll teach me a better way to live; you'll 

{each me a finer way to work ! (Taking up his hat, which he has 

jiut down on coming in.) Let US go forth as wc are — together ! 

GRACE, thinking, yielding, but hesitating. 

;\nd forego the advantage — 

; BERNAL, as she pauses. 

1 The advantage ? 



^ 



i88 THE ALBUM 

GRACE. 
Of further communion with Sir Ralph ! 

BERNAL. I 

Has that communion been so sweet ? (wiih a decisive, co 

prehensive motion as of final and total rupture.) Good-bve tO it! 
GRACE, with a last perfunctory scruple. 

You don't really want to know — ? 

BERNAL, energetically breaking in. 

I don't want to know anything ! (Laughing.) I revel in 
my ignorance and in the prospect of your society 

(Then as if to vanquish her last lingering hesitation.) It waS not fol 

you to help me, dearest — it is for me to help you ! 

GRACE, thinking, assenting, but looking about her with a faint, vague 
sigh of regret for what she gives up. 

So fate may have decreed ! (Then as she surrenders her hanl 

surrenders herself wholly.) And I like it aS WCU ! 

BERN.'\L, with a joyous laugh, drawing, pressing her to his bosom. 

I like it much better ! 

Re-enter Teddy Ashdown. 
TEDDY, arrested an instant ; then as they quickly separate ; radiant. 

Dear Maud has accepted me ! 

BERNAL, in the same manner. • 

I 

And Miss Jesmond has accepted me ! 

Re-enter Maud Vanneck from the left. 



ACT THIRD 189 

lAUD, after a moment's modest pause in the doorway ; demurely to Grace. 

[r. Ashdown will take me out ! 

GRACE, smiling at her and accepting Bernal's arm as if to represent the 
immediate application of the words. 

nd Mr. Bernal will take we / 

BERNAL, seeing Sir Ralph. 

'hough Sir Ralph looks dangerous ! 

Re-enter Sir Ralph from the right. 
SIR RALPH, white, haggard, almost ravaged. 

ve accepted Lady Basset ! 

BERNAL, smiling, as Lady Basset, radiant, reappears. 

'Jq all do the same ! 

Re-enter Lady Basset from the right. 

SIR RALPH, looking with concentrated and agitated significance at Lady 
Basset and speaking with intense and calculated deliberation. 

'ou'U do SO with double relish when you see with what 
sal she joins me — 

LADY BASSET, vague, as he invitingly pauses ; as if made uneasy by his 
look and tone. 

oins you — ? 

SIR RALPH, encouraged and sustained by her alarm. 

n an act of enlightened justice. 

GRACE, with irrepressible joy. 

ustice ? 



igo THE ALBUM 

LADY BASSET, growing darker. 

Sir Ralph, what madness — ? 

SIR RALPH, hopefully exalted. ( 

The madness, my lady, of making over to Mark the 
inheritance I've held in trust for him ! 

LADY BASSET, aghast, astounded. 

Four thousand a year ? 

SIR RALPH. 

Four thousand a year ! (To Bernal.) You ivoiild hav( 
had it ! 

BERNAL, amazed, bewildered. 

The whole property ? I might have had a little ! 

SIR RALPH, uplifted by the assurance of his success, while he looks at 
Lady Basset. 

You shall have all ! You have nothing of your own, 
and I have enough. 

L.'\DY BASSET, almost shrieking in her derision and dismay. 

Enough ? \ 

SIR RALPH. 

My dear, in having yoti ! 

LADY BASSET, overwhelmed, indignant, with a gesture of outraged 
retractation. 

You haven't " me " ! (With the violent motion of clearing her path.j 
throwing up the whole thing, she goes rapidly up. Then at the door to the hall.j 
with concentrated repudiation.) Betrayer ! 

Exit Lady Basset to the hall 



ACT THIRD 191 

BERNAL. 

My dear Ralph, you're too splendid ! 

GRACE, to Bernal. 

Wait till you get it ! 

MAUD, on Teudy's arm ; demurely, to Sir Ralph. 

You'll never see her again ! 

SIR RALPH, relieved, restored, reassured ; measuring, satisfied. 

It's cheap ! 



THE REPROBATE 



IN THREE ACTS 



VOL. II 



CHARACTERS 

Mr. Bonsor. 
Paul Doubleday. 
Captain Chanter. 
Pitt Brunt, M. P. 
Cubit. 

Mrs. Doubleday. 
Mrs. Freshville. 
Blanche Amber. 



ACT FIRST 



Whitsuntide. The drawing-room at Mr. Bonsor's villa at 
Hampton Court. Wide double doors, across the upper angle on 
the right, open from the hall and other parts of the house. Half 
way down on the right a door to the adjacent rooms. On the left, 
far up, at the other angle, a wide French window, open to the lawn. 
Further down on the left the door to the library. A table with 
drawers and several objects upon it somewhat to the left, near the 
front. More to the right a table for a tea-tray. To the right, below 
the lower door, a tall cabinet. The room old-fashioned but cheerful, 
comfortable but slightly severe. Plenty of chintz and mahogany ; 
wall-paper, hung with steel-engravings, of 1850. An old bachelor's 
house ; the whole aspect ugly. 

Enter Cubit and Mrs. Freshville from the hall, he backing down a litttle 
before her as if she may be forcing her way. Mrs. Freshville smart and 
showy, with hair conspicuously "golden." 

CUBIT. 
Certainly, ma'am, you may come in ; but Captain 
Chanter's positively not in the house. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Where then is Captain Chanter ? 

CUBIT. 

He may have gone up to town. 



196 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILT.E. 

For what purpose ? 

CUBIT. 

I haven't the least idea. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Is there any one in the house who lias an idea ? 

CUBIT. 

Oh yes — lots of them ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking at him a moment. 

They must be rubbish. Any women ? 

CUBIT, vague and slightly shocked. 

Women, ma'am ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Petticoats. All men ? 

CUBIT, clearer. 

Two men and a boy. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking round her, t.iking everything in. 

What sort of a boy ? 

CUBIT. 

In buttons — ^to do the knives. 



ACT FIRST 197 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 
Oh that sort ! They're a fraud ! (Seeing Pitt Brunt at 

the open window, through which Brunt steps in from the lawn.) WhO S 

this person ? 

Enter Pitt Brunt. 
CUBIT, announcing. 

Mr. Pitt Brunt ! 

PITT BRUNT, coming down ; privately to Cubit, while Mrs. Fresiiville 
seats herself at the right of the table on the left. 

Who's that person ? 

CUBIT. 
No idea, sir ! 

Exit Cubit to the hall. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm waiting — I'm awfully tired. 

PITT BRUNT, in a modified boating-suit, with a double eyeglass, very 
neat and deliberate, and slightly hesitant and puzzled. 

A — tired of waiting ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Not yet — in your company ! Been on the river ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I put in an hour each day. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
/ used to put in hours — the dear old river ! 



igS THE REPROBATE 

PITT BRUNT. 

It's hygienic — if you're moderate. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I ain^t moderate ! I never was ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

It's best, you know, to be safe. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking at him an instant, while he smiles com- 
placently ; then rising suddenly. 

Do you think you are ? 

PITT BRUNT, startled a liule, retreating a step, then smiling at her again. 

I'm not very sure ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, laughing. 

If you were, I'd do for you ! Are you staying in the 
house ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

No — are you ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Till I've done what I've come for. (Then abrupt, familiar. 

What have you come for ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I put in an hour each day. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Here too ? Why, you must have a time-table ! 



ACT FIRST 199 

PITT BRUNT. 

My life is thoroughly organised. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Mine is deliciously irregular. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Ah, but you're not in the House ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, vague. 

What house ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

The House of Commons ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Do you mean you are ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I sit for Blackport. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

At your ridiculous age ? 

PITT BRUNT, with dignity. 

My constituents have never inquired it. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That's the sort of people I like ! Where are such ducks 
to be found ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

On the banks of the Smutt, in the extreme north. I 
meet them there, I address them, in a day or two ; 



200 THE RETROBATE 

but in the meantime I'm spending the Whitsuntide 
recess at Teddington. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And what are you doing at Teddington ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I'm reading. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Reading what ? 

PITT BRUNT, after an hesitation 

Everything ! 

Re-enter CuiUT from the hall. 
CUBIT. 

Mr. Bonsor has come in, sir. 

PITT BRUNT. 

And Miss Amber ? 

CUBIT. 

Not arrived. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, to Cubit, as he waits. 
You may go. (Exit Cubit to the hall. To Pitt Bku.nt, as he takes up 
his hat to follow him.) Yo?{ may nOt ! (Then as Brunt puts down 

his hat.) Who in the world's Miss Amber? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Mr. Bonsor's niece. i 



ACT FIRST 20I 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

A.nd who in the world's Mr. Bonsor ? 

1 

PITT BRUNT, surprised at the question. 

iThe master of this house. One of my strongest sup- 
porters. He has interests at Blackport — I look after 
them. I have interests here — 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, interruptins. 

And he looks after them ! Tit for tat ! Is he married ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Not yet. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

There's always time ! What's his age ? 

PITT BRUNT, hesitating. 



MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And are you 1 

PITT BRUNT. 

Remarkably well ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Remarkably well married ? 

PITT BRUNT. 
Not married at all ! I mean I'm getting on. 



202 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm glad to hear it. Is she good-looking ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Who, madam? 

MRS. FRESHVILLK 

Mr. Bonsor's niece. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I should use a still stronger expression. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Always use the strongest there is ! Is she one of your 
interests here? 

PITT BRUNT, smiling. 

The greatest ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And Mr. Bonsor looks after it ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

He desires our union. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, 

" Union " is tame. Where is she to arrive from ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

From the continent, where she has spent most of her 
life, and where — in Germany, six months ago — I was 
so fortunate as to make her acquaintance. 



ACT FIRST 203 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, to herself. 

Germany? Then it's not she! (To Brunt.) Isn't there 
another woman ? 

PITT BRUNT, with simpering ardour. 

There's 710 other woman ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

For you — I see ! But for him ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

For whom ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, checking herself, reconsidering. 

Never mind whom ! (As she looks about her she suddenly spies, on 
the table on right, a roll of unfinished embroidery, on which she pounces. 

Holding it up.) Whose untidiness is that ? 

PITT BRUNT, looking at it with his glasses. 

That embroidery ? Perhaps it's Mrs. Doubleday's. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And who on earth is Mrs. Doubleday ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

A lady in the house. 



MRS. FRESHVILLE, with a little vindictive shake of the embroidery, 
which she clutches. 



Then Fve got her ! Rich ? 



204 THE REPROBATE 

PITT BRUNT. I 

Five thousand a year. j 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

Good-looking ? 

PITT BRUNT, after an instant. 

I should use a still weaker expression. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, promptly suggestive. 

Hideous ? 

PITT BRUNT, hesitating again. 

Fat. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And old — horribly old ? (Pressing.) IIo7v old ? 

PITT BRUNT, thinking. 

She's getting on. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

She ought to be ashamed of herself! Where's her 
husband ? 

PITT BRUNT, grave. 

Beneath the sod. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, gay. 

Like mine ! ^M^at then is she doing here ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Spending a month. 



ACT FIRST 205 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 



With a bachelor ? 



PITT BRUNT. 

They have a common object. 

I 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

What sort of object ? 



A child. 

Hers ? 

His! 

Mr. Bonsor's ? 



PITT BRUNT. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

PITT BRUNT. 
MR.S. FRESHVILLE. 



PITT BRUNT, with a somewhat scandalised movement of repudiation. 

Mr. Doubleday's — the son of his first marriage. This 
lady, the stepmother, Is one of the joint guardians. As 
Mr. Bonsor is the other, they have often to meet. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

How old is the child ? 

PITl BRUNT. 

He's getting on_ 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You seem all to be gettina; on ! 



2o6 THE REPROBATE 

PITT BRUNT. 
He's about thirty. 

MRS. FRE.SHVILLE. 

Then why the deuce guardians ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

It's a pecuhar case — he's vicious. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Stuff — I don't beheve it ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

There are such men. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You should give them their head ! 

I 

PITT BRUNT. ^Hj 

Doubleday can't be trusted. He requires the iron hand 
— and he knows it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
I see — hke my young man ! 

PITT BRUNT, vague. 

Yours ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

He requires it — and he knows it. But I forgot — you 
don't ! 



ACT FIRST 207 

PITT BRUNT. 

Permit me then to retire. 

I 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

|3end me the butler ! (Exit Pitt Brunt to the hall. Unfolding the 
(ambroidery, she looks at it a moment.) HideOUS ! the WOflc of an 

Ugly woman. Never mind, it's evidence ! (Roiling the 

embroidery up with decision, she thrusts it into her pocket.) I SCC my 

way. No warning a pounce ! (Seeing Cubit, she extracts her 

purse from a small smart reticule which she carries on her arm, and takes a gold 
coin from it. Re-enter Cubit from the hall. Having put the reticule upon the 
table on the left and the purse into her pocket, she hands the coin to Cubit.) 

Can you change me that ? 

CUBIT, with the sovereign, mystified. 

I've only sixpence. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, taking the sixpence which Cubit has produced. 

Sixpence will do. 

CUBIT, still more mystified. 

And the rest ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, significant, with something very like a wink. 

Enjoy the rest ! 

CUBIT, to himself, gleefully, while he promptly pockets the sovereign. 

Nineteen-and-six ? What a rum tip ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm awfully thirsty. Is there any place near ? 



2o8 THE REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
/ could give you something — for the money ! 

MRS. FRESHVII.LK. 

The money's for something else — the money's to hoi i 
your tongue. 

CUBIT. 

Hold it to the Captain ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Don't mention me — see ? 

CUBIT. 

I see. But who'll hold Mr. Brunt's ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm already his secret : \ feel I am ! Good-bye. 

CUBIT. 
I could throw in a glass of sherry. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I loathe sherry. I'm coming back. 

CUBIT. 

Let me show you the place. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, motioning him back ^" ' 

I always find the place ! Don't attract attention ! 

E.\it Mrs. Freshvii.le to the hall. 



ACT FIRST 209 

CUBIT, alone, looking after her. 

It'll be a near thing if you don't ! I'd remark her any- 
where ! (Perceiving her reticule on the table.) Hullo ! ha.S she 
left me another souvenir ? (Taking up the reticule and hesitating 

while he looks at it.) Shall I go after her? No — I'll give it 
to her when she comes back. (SnifiSng at it.) My favourite 

scent what-dO-yOU-Call-'em ! (Startled, seeing Mr. BoNSOR, and 

immediately dropping the reticule on the table.) Oh ! 

Enter Mr. Bonsor by the lower door on the right. 
MR. BONSOR, who has seen his movement. 

To whom does that article belong ? 

CUBIT. 

I was just wondering, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Is your nose your organ of wonder ? I seem myself to 
become aware of the recent presence of a female. 

CUBIT. 

A lady who has just gone, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Gone where ? 

CUBIT. 

No idea, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

What did she want ? 

CUBIT. 

She didn't seem to know ! 

VOL. II p 



210 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
To wliom was her visit presumably addressed ? 

CUBIT. 

Couldn't make out, sir ! (To himsdf.) Nineteen-and-six '. | 
What'll he go ? 

MR. BONSOR, to himself, struck. 

To Paul ? (To Cubit.) Did shc make no observation ? 

CUBIT. 

She observed that she'd come back. 

MR. BONSOR, to himself. 

Is he at it again? (To Cubit.) When may we expect her? ' 

CUBIT. 

Really can't say, sir ; but when she comes — 

MR. BONSOR. 

Let me instantly know. (Looking for a moment, with his glasses, 
without approaching it, at the reticule which Cubit has restored to its place on 
the table on the left.) Let me examine that object. (Cubit pre- 
sents him with the reticule, which, while Cubit holds it, he continues, without 
touching it, to look at in the same way.) Ruby VClvCt ? Ostcn- 

tatious. 

CUBIT. 

Slightly scented, sir. Shall I remove it ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
Not offensive. You may leave it. (After Cubit has again 

placed the reticule on the table.) Where is Mrs. Doublcday ? 



ACT FIRST 211 

CUBIT. 
Visiting the palace, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Again ? She visited the palace yesterday. 

CUBIT. 

Great historical interest, sir. Often spend an hour there 
myself. 

MR. BONSOR, in his reflections. 

Not alone, I suppose. 

CUBIT, hesitating an instant, smiling. 

Usually with a companion, sir. 

MR. BONSOR, aloof. 

I'm not interested in your companions. I allude to 
Mrs. Doubleday. 

CUBIT. 

Beg your pardon, sir. Her companion would probably 
be the Captain. 

MR. BONSOR. 

I thought Captain Chanter was to go to London. 

CUBIT, smiling. 

/ didn't, sir. He was out with her yesterday. 

MR. BONSOR, struck, prompt. 

Was he ? (Then dry.) I didn't ask you to watch their 
movements. Is Mr. Paul with them ! 



212 THE REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
They don't take him, sir. He might watch their move- 
ments ! 

MR. BONSOR, to himself. 

It's the time to watch his! (ToCubit.) Where is Mr. 
Paul? 

CUBIT. 

In the hbrary, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Then call him immediately. 

CUBIT, without moving. 

I might call him all day, sir — he would never be able 
to come. 

MR. BONSOR. 

What's the matter with him ? 

CUBIT. 

He's locked in. Mrs. Doubleday has the key. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Oh yes, I forgot ! (Feeling in his pocket.) I Carry duplicates. 

(Producing a key and giving it to Cubit.) Let luui OUt. 
CUBIT, to himself. 

One would think he was a domestic animal ! 

E.\it CuniT, with the key, to the library. 
MR. BONSOR, alone, taking up the reticule. 

A mysterious female, with a meretricious appendage? 

i 



ACT FIRST 213 

Why not state her business ? I hate anything under- 
hand. (Trying to open the bag.) CoufoUnd the Catch ! 
(Opening it.) A photOgraph ? (Takingoneout of thebag.) Mcrci- 

ful powers — it's Paul ! What fresh connection has he 
formed, with all our safeguards ? And what's this 
written on the back ? " Dudley — to his Nina ! " She's 
his Nina, of course, but why is he her Dudley ? Has 
he an alias — like a burglar ? What dreadful revelations ! 
Shall I confront him with this ? No, I'll conceal it — 

I'll confer with my associate. (SUps the photograph into his breast- 
pocket ; thrusts the reticule into the cabinet on the right. Enter Paul Double- 
day, from the library, with a book in his hand. To himself, seeing him.) 

Dudley ! 

PAUL. 

Oh, Mr. Bonsor, is this a book I may read ? 

MR. BONSOR, with the book. 

The Experience of Life? Decidedly not — it doesn't 
sound safe ! 

PAUL. 

Shall I put it back ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

By no means. (Looking at him strangely.) 77/ put it back ! 
Have you perused any portion of it ? 

PAUL. 

Not a word — I waited to ask you. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Then how have you been occupied ? 



214 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, melancholy. 

I haven't been occupied ! 

MR. BONSOR, significant. 

We must occupy you ! 

PAUL. 

Do, Mr. Bonsor — I so want to fill the hours ! 

MR. BONSOR, suspicious. 
You say that in a tone — 

P.\UL, conciliatory, explanatoo'- 

The tone of conviction, Mr. Bonsor ! I've tried to 
speak of it to Mamma, but Mamma is occupied. 

MR. BONSOR. 

The occupation we shall propose for you is not the same 
as that which now engrosses your mamma. 

PAUL. 

Oh, yes — I don't mean that .' 

MR. BONSOR. 

It's comparatively legitimate — for Mrs. Doubleday. 

PAUL. 
Yes, and it must be so jolly ! (Then on a movement of Mr. 

Bonsor's, quick.) Whcu it I's legitimate ! 



ACT FIRST 215 

MR. BONSOR. 
When it is we may perhaps concede that ! But there 
are cases in which it isn't. I needn't remind you that 
you've forfeited — 

PAUL, with a sigh. 

Oh, I know what I've forfeited ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

I needn't remind you that our confidence in you isn't all 
that we could wish. 

PAUL, genuinely meek. 

You do remind me, Mr. Bonsor. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Occasionally, perhaps — for it's indispensable. 

PAUL. 

Yes — it's indispensable ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Such an occasion has now presented itself If I just 
sent for you, it's to call your attention to the propriety 
of another sacrifice. 

PAUL, pleading. 

Another, Mr. Bonsor ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
I count upon you to make it. 



2i6 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, pulling himself together. 

Well— I'll make it ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

You know our system — your mother's and mine. 
(Complacent.) The more sacrifices you make, the easier it 
is to make 'em ! 

PAUL. 

They come very easy now, Mr. Bonsor. 

MR. BONSOR. 

The present occasion will perhaps be something of a 
test. ' 

PAUL. 

There's no test, Mr. Bonsor, that I shrink from ! 

MR. BONSOR, still more complacent. 

You perceive then the success of our system ! j 

P.-\UL, virtuous, like .t prize pupil. 

It works, Mr. Bonsor — in perfection ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
There's a young lady about to arrive here. 

PAUL. ^ I 

Yes, Mr. Bonsor. 

MR. BONSOR. 
My niece, Miss Amber, who has been living abroad. 
She has come to spend three months with me — I've 
very particular views for her. AVhat I want you to 



ACT FIRST 217 

understand is that I look to you not to interfere with 
them. 

PAUL. 

Tell me what they are, Mr. Bonsor, and I will regulate 
myself accordingly. 

MR. BONSOR. 

I don't see my way to describe them to you correctly as 
anything but matrimonial. 

PAUL, with continued docility. 

You wish me to marry her ? 

MR. BONSOR, shocked. 

Not for worlds ! I wish you to do the very opposite. 

PAUL, vague. 

The very opposite ? Make up to her without intentions ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Not make up to her at all ! She's guileless — she's 

^resh — she's pure. Let her remain so ! 

f 

PAUL. 

You mean that I'm not to speak to her ? 

MR. BONSOR, stern. 

Never — till she speaks to jwc. (To himself.) I'll take care 
she doesn't ! 

PAUL, following closely. 

Then I may answer her? 



2i8 THE RETROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
With extreme reserve. 

PAUL, as if learning his lesson. 

With extreme reserve. Is she possessed of — a — 
personal attractions ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Unfortunately. 

PAUL, with intense assent. 

Unfortunately ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Fortunately you are not ! 

PAUL, with intenser assent. 

Fortunately ! — And is her future husband ? 

MR. BON.SOR. 

Her future husband is that rising young star of his 
party, Mr. Pitt Brunt. 

PAUL, precipitate. 

Oh, he's not beautiful ! 

MR. BONSOR, pointed. 

No, but he's good ! 

P.\UL, checked, humiliated. 

Yes — that's everything ! 



ACT FIRST 219 

MR. BONSOR. 

I've sent him to the station to meet Blanche. 

PAUL, alert, in spite of himself. 

Is her name Blanche ? 

MR. BONSOR, severe. 

You'll have no occasion to pronounce it ! (Looking at his 
watch.) I'm also expecting your mother's return. 

PAUL, somewhat rueful. 

So am /, Mr. Bonsor ! 

MR. BON.SOR, significant. 

She forgets herself! 

PAUL, reassuring, yet ominous. 

Oh, she'll remember vie ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

I hope so ! You constitute, in her absence, a responsi- 
bility of which I feel the weight ! (Deliberating.) I don't 
quite know what to do with you. 

PAUL, passive. 

Whatever you like, Mr. Bonsor ! 

MR. BONSOR, significant. 

There are many things to consider. 



220 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. I 

Shall I return to the library ? 1 

MR. BONSOR, dubious, taking up the book given him by Paul and tumin;; 
over a page or two. 

Not till I've weeded it out ! (Tosses down the book as if with a 
ense of contamination.) 

PAUL, suggestive. 

Mamma sometimes keeps me in her room. 

MR. BONSOR, considering. 

I'm afraid that ground is forbidden me. (Austere.) I 
never enter your mother's apartment. 

PAUL. 
Mightn't you put me in yours ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

That ground would be forbidden Jier, should she have 
occasion to visit you. 

PAUL. 

She sometimes confines me in my own little room. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Your own little room's the best place for you. I'll ring 
for Cubit to convey you there. 

PAUL, angelic. 

Let me ring ! (Rings.) May I come down to tea ? 



ACT FIRST 221 

MR. BONSOR. 

I don't know that to-day it will be advisable. 

PAUL, venturing to plead. 

I'm uncommonly thirsty, Mr. Bonsor. 

MR. BONSOR. 

We're acquainted with some of the aberrations of your 
thirst — which it is one of the leading features of our 
system to keep under control. 

PAUL. 

Dear Mr. Bonsor, tea isn't an aberration ! (Seeing Cubit.) 
Here it is ! 

Re-enter Cubit at the lower door on the right, followed by a footman 
with a tea-tray. 

CUBIT, to Mr. Bonsor. 

Tea, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Put it down. (The footman deposits the tray and retires. While he is 
doing so Blanche Amber appears, unperceived by the others, at the open 

window, on the lawn.) And take Mr. Paul to his room. 

Enter Blanche Ambek. 
BLANCHE, precipitate, to Cubit. 

Oh, I say — please don't ! 

MR. BONSOR, startled, meeting and embracing her. 

Dearest child ! Where's Pitt Brunt ? 



222 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
I left him behind — I came across the hiwn. We walked 
from the station — my maid has my things. 

CUBIT, announcing, as Pitt Ekunt appears at the window 

Mr. Pitt Brunt ! 

Re-enter Pitt Brunt, from the lawn. 
PITT BRUNT, slightly dignified and injured, to Blanche. 

I should have been glad to pursue my explanation. 

BLANCHE, laughing. 

Pursue it — but don't pursue me I 

MR. BONSOR, to Bkunt. ^ 

You cau pursue everything here. 

BL.\NCHE, who has been looking at Paul. 

Oh, not all at once, please ! 

iMR. BONSOR, cheerful. 

There'll be plenty of time ! 

PITT BRUNT, hopeful. 

Plenty of time ! 

MR. BON.SOR. 

Delighted to welcome you at last, Blanche. 

BLANCHE. 

So happy to arrive, at last, dear uncle, and to be already 

(looking round her) SO chamied With your surroundings ! 



ACT FIRST 223 

CUBIT, to Mr. BoNSOR 

? Beg your pardon, sir — am I to remove Mr. Paul ? 

1 1 BLANCHE, smiling, to Mr. Bonsok. 

Won't you let me plead for him ? 

PITT BRUNT, to Paul. 

Oh, how d'ye do, Doubleday ? I didn't notice you ! 

PAUL, iiigeiiuously delighted, privately to Pitt EKt;Nr. 

Miss Amber does ! 

BLANCHE, privately to Mr. Bonsor. 

Forgive my rash interference — Mr. Brunt has told me 
all about him. 

>IR. BONSOR. 
It was to warn you in time. (To Cubit.) Mr. Paul will 
first have his tea. 

BLANCHE, approaching the tea-tray. 

And mayn't 1 have mine ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
Won't you have, after your journey, something more 
invigorating — a glass of wine ? 

CUBIT. 

I've brought wine, sir. (Mr. Bonsor signifies to Cubit that nothing 
more is wanted, on which Cuiiit goes out by lower door on the right.) 

BLANCHE, to Paul, seeing him approach the tea-table. 

Will you give me a glass of wine ? 



224 THE REPROBATE 

Paul, at this darts in silence to the decanter and, filling a glass, hands it i i 
Blanche. While he is in the act of doing so enter Mrs. Doubledav from ( 
the hall, perceiving with visible horror what is taking place. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with loud abruptness. ' 

Paul! 

PAUL, with a startled jump, letting his wine-glass fall. 

Mamma ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, to herself, coming down. 

Drinking — with a woman ! 

MR. BONSOR, to Mrs. Doubledav. 

My niece has arrived from Germany. (To Blanche.) My 
amiable friend Mrs. Doubleday. (Mrs. Doubledav, without 

shaking hands, greets Blanche with a distant and majestic curtsey.) j 

BLANCHE, after returning her salutation very much in the same way, to t 
Pitt Brunt, who, having seized from the agitated Paul the decanter and 

another glass, approaches her obsequiously. 

Amiable ? I don't believe it ! 

PITT BRUNT, pouring out wine. 

An exemplary woman. 

BLANCHE. 

I detest exemplary women ! 

PITT BRUNT, reprehensive. 

Oh, Miss Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 

And also exemplary men ! 



ACT FIRST 225 

PITT BRUNT. 
You are paradoxical ! Let me give you a glass of wine ! 

BLANCHE. 

Thank you — I've changed my mind. (Seeing that Paul, after 

his accident with the wine-glass, has poured out a cup of tea.) But I 11 

have a cup of tea. 

Paul, taking the invitation, darts to her with the cup. Enter at the same 
instant from the hall Captain Chanter. 

MRS. DOUBLED.AY. 

Paul! 

PAUL, startled, jumping as before, and all but letting the cup drop. 

Mamma ? 

CHANTER, rushing forward and catching the cup. 

Saved ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, seated down on the left. 
Then bring it to me ! (Chanter brings her the tea.) 

MR. BONSOR, introducing. 

Captain Chanter — Miss Amber ! 

BLANCHE, after nodding gaily at Chanter, who has bowed to her. 

I seem dangerous to the glass and china ! 

CHANTER, gallant, with his hand on his heart. 

Not only, I take it, to such fragile objects ! 

VOL. II Q 



226 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Captain ! 

Chanter veers round and talks to her. Pitt Brunt meantime has gone back 
to the tea-table and e.\changed his decanter and gla.ss for a cup of tea, with 
which he returns to Blanche. Mr. Bonsor, going up, has poured out a ' 
cup of tea and administered it, as it were, to Paul, who stands helpless; 
and rueful. 

PITT BRUNT, with the cup, to Blanche. 

Let me serve you. 

BLANCHE. 

Don't think me very capricious if I change my mind 
again. (To Mr. Bonsor.) I think what I really and truly 
want is to go to my room. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Let me instantly conduct you. 

PITT BRUNT, to Blanche. 

Let me wait for you here. 

MR. BONSOR, to Pitt Brunt. ' 

You're to stay to dinner, you know. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I've brought my things. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Cubit will show you where to dress. 

PITT BRUNT, at the door to the h.^ll to Blanche, whose back is turned. 

Auf Wiedersehen ! 

Exit Pitt Brunt. 



ACT FIRST 227 

MR. BONSOR, to Mrs. Doubleday. 

Shall I find you here in ten minutes ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, appealing to Captain Chanter. 

In ten minutes ? 

CHANTER, looking at his watch and smiling ; to Mr. Bonsor. 

Say a quarter of an hour ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

A quarter of an hour. (He opens the lower door on the right for 
Blanche, who, during the appeal to Mrs. Doubleday, has passed round and 
paused an instant before Paul, whom she looks at sympathetically and a trifle 
strangely ; a movement, a passage between them, observed by Mrs. Doubleday.) 

BLANCHE, at the door, to Mrs. Doubleday, smiling. 

Excuse me ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
Don't mention it ! (E.xeunt Blanche and Mr. Bonsor.) Paul ! 

PAUL, who has his eyes fixed musingly on the door ; startled. 

Yes, Mamma ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Go to you7- room. 

PAUL. 
Mayn't I come down to dinner ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, after consideration. 

On the understanding that you sit by me. 

CHANTER, protesting tenderly. 

Then, dear lady, whom shall / sit by ? 



228 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBI.EDAY, privately, warning. 

Hush — before him ! (To Paul.) Go ! 

PAUL. 

Yes, mamma. 

Exit Pai;l, submissive, to the hall. 
MRS. COUBLEDAY, looking on the table. 

Where in the world's my embroidery ? 

CHANTER, helping her to look. 

Your embroidery ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

It was here — it's gone. 

CHANTER, gallant. 

If I had seen it I should doubtless have purloined it — 
treasure-trove ! But I really haven't seen it. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, glancing about. 

I should prefer you to see it. 

CHANTER, pleading. 

Not just now, you know — I want all your attention. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You've had it these three hours. 

CHANTER. 

Three hours were not enough — for all I had to say ! 



ACT FIRST 229 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Yet you spoke with eloquence. 

CHANTER. 

Say indeed with passion — with all the ardour of a 
' sentiment long repressed, bursting forth in a flood ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

And I followed you with natural embarrassment. 

CHANTER. 

With nothing more natural than embarrassment ? With 
no indulgence for my faults, with no encouragement for 
my hopes ? 

j MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I must consider — I must consult. 

CHANTER. 

Consult with vie! It's just for that I offer myself! 
Didn't you tell me, moreover, that you would answer 
me in this place ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

1 I've immense responsibilities. 

j CHANTER. 

J It's for the way you discharge them that I revere you. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

j They've quite worn me out. What's left is — what you 
see. 



230 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

What I see is the most charming creature in England — 
a woman the picture of whose rich maturity is but the 
voluminous record of her extraordinary virtue. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I believe I've done my duty — but the burden has been 
heavy indeed. 

CHANTER. 

Let me take it on 7ny shoulders ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Wait till you know what it has been in the past, to 
judge what it may be in the future. 

CHANTER, smiling. 

In the future we shall be two. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Say, alas, we shall be three ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh, if you count that way we shall be four. We 
mustn't forget dear Bonsor. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Never — he has been everything to me. 

CHANTER, dubious. 

Everything ? 



ACT FIRST 231 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
In my interminable martyrdom. 

CHANTER. 

He'll always be at his post. There's no fear of his ever 
marrying 



I 

MRS. DOUBLED.W. 



There never was. He's impervious to female charms. 

CHANTER, smiling. 

That makes one more comfortable. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Oh, I haven't thought of conquest — I've thought only 
of my daily round. Mr. Bonsor will accuse me of 
deserting him. 

CHANTER, argumentative, cogent. 

You reinforce him ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
I certainly shouldn't look at you unless I thought you 
j were good. 

I CHANTER, self-complacent. 

\ 

1 I do try to be good. The best of us can only try. 

I MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

And not all who try succeed. You do. 

CHANTER, simpering. 

I Very kind of you to have noticed it. 



232 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
Thai's why I shrink from telling you everything. 

CHANTER. 

To the pure all things are pure ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

So I've had often to say to myself — in the atmosphere 
of Paul's propensities. 

CHANTER. 

It has left you unspotted. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, anxious. 

\Vill it leave you so ? That's the question that haunts 
me now. 

CHANTER. 

J ust try me and see ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
You know, then, in a general way, the task I accepted 
on the lamented death of Mr. Doubleday. 

CHANTER. 

To watch over the product of his earlier union. You 
may be said to have watched. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Night and day — it was a sacred trust. His earlier union 
had been a blunder. 



ACT FIRST 233 

CHANTER. 

He didn't knowjw^ 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He couldn't. I was scarcely born. 

CHANTER. 

If you had been you'd have been saved — 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

This crushing legacy ? It's not improbable. But I 
came too late. 

CHANTER. 

Not too late to save Paul. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Have I saved him ? That remains to be seen ! His 
mother, alas, was — indelicate ! 

CHANTER. 

There are such women ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

She was a person of some appearance; but she was bold. 

CHANTER. 

Yet not unattractive ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

There were persons who thought so ; but dont ask for 
details. 



234 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

I know you well enough to know it would be useless. 
But even without them I can judge of the blood that 
flows in Paul's veins. 

MR.S. DOUBLED.W. 

Heredity, heredity ! My husband's favourite expression. 
He saw it bear dreadful fruit. 

CHANTER. 

From the child's earliest years ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Almost in the cradle. Fortunately he was on the look- 
out. 

CHANTER, impulsive. 

Poor old chap ! (Then prompt.) I mean Paul ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

It's indeed his misfortune even more than his fault. 
But it was to the advantage of every one when the fatal 
fountain of such dangers at last ceased to flow. My 
predecessor succumbed — to the last penalties of im- 
propriety ; and Mr. Doubleday, after a considerable 
interval, did what he could to repair his original error. 

CHANTER. 

He married a faultless being. 



ACT FIRST 235 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

That's what he was so good as to pronounce me. Un- 
lappily his compensation was not so complete as I could 
lave wished. I presented him with a second son, who, 
lias, didn't live. 

CHANTER. 

[f he had, he too would have been faultless. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Heredity again ! It was then that we looked in the 
"ace — that we sadly but heroically accepted — our re- 
sponsibilities to our little incumbrance : not with the 
rain hope of making him what his brother would have 
oeen, but with that of repressing his inclinations. 

CHANTER. 

And in some degree you succeeded ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Till his twentieth year. Then they burst forth. 

CHANTER, pressing. 

What did he do ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, hesitating, scrupulous. 

Can I safely tell you ? 

CHANTER. 

To the pure all things are pure ! 



236 THE REP ROB ATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Suppose 1 should communicate a taint ? 

CHANTER. 

I must get accustomed to my danger. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

One does. Paul disappeared. 

CHANTER. 

How did he manage it ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

By the assistance of another person. 

CHANTER. 

What description of person ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The lowest description. A singer, from the "Waterloo." 

CHANTER. A j 

The Waterloo ? " ' 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The name of a popular music-hall. Vou don't know 
such things — but I've had to learn them ! Her name 
was Nina. 

CHANTER, startled. 

Nina? ) 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. ; 

Did you ever see her ? 



ACT FIRST 237 

CHANTER. 

Dear me, no ! (To himself.) Nina ? 

I 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

They went to Paris. 

CHANTER, impulsive, inadvertent. 

That's the best place ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, surprised. 

What do you know about it ? 

CHANTER, on his guard. 

One can't help hearing. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

/ can't, but you should ! We pursued him, we had a 
hunt ! and, after unspeakable anxieties and incredible 
efforts, we finally ran him to earth. 

CHANTER ■with increasing interest. 

Where was he ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

In sumptuous apartments — steeped to the lips in vice. 
He had given the rein to his passions. 

CHANTER, breathless. 

All of them ? 



238 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Without exception. He had changed his name, he had 

waxed his moustache, he had overdrawn his account. 

CHANTER. 

Then you arrived just in time. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

To take him home. We took him. 

CHANTER. 

Did he kick ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He was prostrate, he couldn't deny it. 

CHANTER. 

No, poor fellow, he does own up ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Our only mercy. He sees himself as he is. Well he 
may, when he killed his father. ' 

CHANTER, startled. 

Do you really mean- — ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I mean that my husband died of the scandal. But in 
his last hours he cut me out my work. 

CHANTER. 

To keep hold of Paul ? 



ACT FIRST 239 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

To prevent a recurrence. 

CHANTER. 

And you've prevented it ! 

MRS. DOUBLED.W. 

With the help of Mr. Bonsor, whom, as my husband's 
oldest and dearest friend, he appointed, as it were, my 
joint-supervisor. A childless widow with an ample pro- 
vision, I had command of my time, and an equally child- 
less bachelor with an equally adequate fortune, Mr. 
Bonsor had command of his. We've given it all to our 
work, we've had no other life. 

CHANTER. 

It's time to have another now. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Sometimes — when I falter — I think so. 

CHANTER. 

You've done so much. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

We've reduced it to a science. To act on the slightest 
symptom. 

CHANTER. 

To cry " Fire ! " on the first puff of smoke ! 



240 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

If we SO much as sniff it, we turn on the hose. We i 
flood the whole i)lace. 

CH.\NTER. 

So that Paul lives, as it were, under water. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

It has taught him to swim, it has made him amphibious. 

We organise his hours ; we regulate his thoughts ; we 

control his imagination. We're intensely particular, for 

instance, about his reading. Nothing that treats of the 

passions. 

CHANTER. 

That cuts it down ! 

MRS. DOUBLED.\Y. 

We cut it down. We cut everything down. We allow 
him no pocket-money. 

CHANTER. 

None at all ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Sixpence a day. 

CHANTER. 

You can't be very bad on that ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You can be very good ! He gives it to the poor. We 
allow him no tobacco, no wine, and no female ac- 
quaintance. 



ACT FIRST 241 

CHANTER. 

What then do you allow him ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
Nothing. To such a nature everything's an opportunity. 
He reports himself at fixed hours, and, as you know, I 
rarely leave his side. 

CHANTER. 

Yes, I had a job to get you off. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
I locked him up. 

CHANTER. 

But he got out. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
Mr. Eonsor must have taken the responsibility. Four 
times a year we spend a month here — for Mr. Bonsor to 
do his part. 

CHANTER. 

He seems to do it very well. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, dubious. 

Mr. Bonsor requires to be kept up. He shouldn't have 
invited that girl. 

CHANTER. 

Oh, I'll look after her ! 

VOL. II R 



242 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLED AY. 

Don't take the trouble, 77/ look after her ! Now you , 
see my hfe. ' 

CHANTER. 

To see it is to admire it ; but there's one thing I don't 
understand ! Paul's healthy, hearty, independent — 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He's still an infant. 

CHANTER. 
An infant of thirty ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

By the terms of his father's will. He doesn't come of 
age till he's forty ; unless before that, in the exercise of 
our discretion, if it seems to us finally safe, we anticipate 
a little, we put him in possession. 

CHANTER. 

He could break such a will in an hour ! •' 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

It would never occur to him— he takes our view. 

CHANTER. 

Very obhging of him ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I do him justice — he repents. He's afraid of his 
passions. 



ACT FIRST 243 

CHANTER, as if with the deUberate resolve to face, courageously, consider- 
able exposure. 

Well, I ain't ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, anxious, ominous. 

Are you sure they're not contagious ? 

CHANTER. 

I'll set him the exam])le of mine. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Yours ? 

CHANTER. 

I've only one — it's for you ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You're almost irresistible — but think it well over ! 

(Seeing Mr. bonsor.) Herc's Mr. Bonsor, for one of our 

1 regular councils, which we never postpone. (Re-enter Mr. 

Bonsor from the lower door on the right. Waving Captain Chanter toward 

1 the library.) Think it ovcr and over ! 

j CHANTER, at the door of the library. 

I Coquette ! 

E.xit Captain Chanter. 
MR. BONSOR. 

On what are you inviting him so peculiarly to brood ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

My peculiar position. 



244 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
What has he got to do with it ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, modest. ' 

That he must confide to you himself. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Mrs. Doubleday, you've a bad conscience ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with spirit. 

Not worse ihanjou ought to have ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

I'm not straying into languid by-paths — I'm not thinking 
of a sacrifice to Hymen. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Of marriage ? You think of nothing else but that girl's ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Well, if I'm a victim of duty, I'm also Blanche's uncle. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

And if I'm a victim of duty, I'm also — (Checking herself 

as if from delicacy.) 

MR. BONSOR. 

Not the Captain's aunt — though you might be ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

There's something you might be, Mr. Bonsor : a little 
more correct in your figures ! 



ACT FIRST 245 

MR. BONSOR. 

This is not a time to recriminate — it's a time for har- 
monious action. (Taking the photograph from his pocket.) Loolc 

at that ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with the photograph. 

Paul ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Dudley ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, looking at the back. 

Nina ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

She's here ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, horrified. 

Here? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Come back for him ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

After all these years ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

They've been wasted ! She was here an hour ago — she 
may return at any moment. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Prevent her — head her off! 

MR. BONSOR. 
Shall I see her alone ? 



246 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, dubious. 
No, that won't do ! I'll see her ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
Such a person ? It's indecorous. /'// see her ! 

Exit Mr. BoNSOR rapidly to the hall. 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with the photogr.-iph in her hand. ' 

He's too proper by half ; he needn't accuse me /' 

(Tosses the photograph on the table and goes quickly to the door of the library, 
where she calls.) Captain ! (Then as Chanter reappears : re-enter 
Captain Chanter.) She's COme back ! 

CHANTER. 

Who's come back ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
Nina ! 

CHANTER, bounding in. 

Nina ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

We must double the guard ! 

CIL\NTER, to himself, excited, alarmed. 

Heavens ! if it's 7ny Nina ? (To Mrs. Doubleday.) Where 
is she ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Mr. Bonsor's gone to look. 

CHANTER, nervous, starting to go up. 

/'// go to look ! 



ACT FIRST 247 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, commanding. 
Captain ! (As Chanter comes down again.) You'U Stay here. 

(Indicating the table.) There's his photograph. 

CHANTER, taking the photograph. 
And where's hers ? (Tosses the photograph back.) 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, struck. 

Why should you want it ? 

CHANTER, rueful. 

True — when we have the reahty ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I'll turn the key in Paul's door ! 

CHANTER, looking at his watch. 

You must dress for dinner. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
His room is next to mine. (Then with sudden seductiveness.) 

Notv do you want me ? 

CHANTER, ardent. 

More than ever, beloved ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, giving him her hand to kiss. 

Then take me ! 



Chanter seizes it and kisses it with an air of rapture, on which Mrs. Double- 
day snatches it away and goes out hastily to the hall. Re-enter Cubit by 
the lower door on the right. 



1 



248 THE REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
I've put out the embroidered waistcoat, sir. 

CHANTER, to himself, agitated. 

Embroidered by Nina's hand ! 

Exit Captain Chanter by the lower door on the right 
CUBIT, alone. 

Does he know she was here? has he seen wliat she left? 

Where is that elegant object? (Seeing Blanche Amder at the 
window.) Here's an elegant object ! (Re-enter Blanche, dressed 

for dinner, from the lawn.) Quitc comfortablc in your room, 
Miss? 

BLANCHE. 

Perfectly, thank you ! 



\ 



CURIT, looking at his watch. 

Dinner in ten minutes. 

BLANCHE. 

I'm quite ready. (Exit Cubit to the haii.) What sociable 
servants ! (At the table on the left.) But what dreary books ? 

(Taking up one.) T/ie Experience of Life ? (Turning it over.) 

Improving ! (Flinging it down.) I hate improvement ! The 

usual photographs ? (Taking up the photograph of Paul.) Ah, 

no, not quite ! Poor Mr. Paul — in all his impropriety ! 
What a history ! He is handsome ! (Turning over the photoi 
graph.) But why " Dudley " ? Some wild pet name ? 
How romantic ! And who's " Nina " ? (Musing while she 
looks again at Paul's image.) Some great lady, perhaps, whose 
head he has turned — her pet name ! Is she handsome ? 



ACT FIRST 249 

(With her eyes for a moment on the picture.) I hope not ! (Seeing 
Paul, who has appeared at the window, she is so startled that, as he comes in 
and down, she slips the photograph, to prevent his seeing it, precipitately, in- 
stinctively into her pocket. Enter Paul Doubleday from the lawn ; shyly, 
hesitatingly, tentatively, as if his pretext has suddenly failed him. He is not 
dressed for dinner. He comes down, however, with a visible mixttire of impetu- 
osity and caution, which gives him an odd air that makes Blanche appear to 
wonder, with sudden amusement, what is the matter with him.) Are yOU 

looking for anything ? 

PAUL, panting a little. 

No, thank you ! — I mean I am! 

BLANCHE. 

Anything that was on that table ? 

PAUL, looking vaguely and as if a little surprised. 
Nothing that was on that table. (Seeing The Experience 0/ Li/c.) 

Not that book — I mayn't touch it. 

BLANCHE. 

The Experience of Life 1 Don't — it's dreadfully slow ! 

PAUL, surprised. 

It's too fast for 7ne ! Have yoti any books ? 

BLANCHE, thinking. 

Any books ? 

PAUL. 

Any safe ones. They're all impossible here. 

BLANCHE. 

Impossibly dull ? 



2SO THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Impossibly lively ! They excite a train of thought. 

BLANCHE. 

In this good house — my uncle's ? 

PAUL. 

I mean for me. But I'm not like others — I'm so easily 
upset ! 

BLANCHE, looking at him an instant with compassionate assent and interefi. 

Ah, yes — I know ! 

PAUL, struck. 

You know already ? 

BLANCHE. 
My uncle has mentioned it. 

PAUL, with a sigh of resignation. 

Yes, he always mentions it ! 

BLANCHE. 

And Mr. Pitt Brunt had hinted — 

PAUL, with a flash of spirit. 

Mr. Pitt Brunt ? I'd thank him not to hint ! 
BLANCHE. 

He spoke of it kindly — he's sorry for you. I've a 
charming book upstairs — a railway novel. 



ACT FIRST 251 

PAUL, with a sigh of renunciation. 

Ah, railway novels won't do ! Quite forbidden ! 

BLANCHE, with the same compassion. 

They do keep you short ! 

PAUL, making everj' concession. 

rhey /laTc to, you see. (After an instant.) My propensities, 
,'ou know. 

BLANCHE, grave, impressed. 

\Te they so awfully marked ? 

PAUL. 

iVith big black numbers — one, two, three ! 

BLANCHE, wondering. 

Three ? 

PAUL. 

Dh, there are more than that ! But don't ask me to 
;ount. 

BLANCHE. 
^Ot for the world. (Then after an instant, smiling.) T // COUUt ! 

PAUL. 

\.s you see them appear ? You'll get tired ! 

BLANCHE. 

?hey don't appear — it seems to me — in your appear- 
.nce ! 



252 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 

Ah, the very worst of them is my duplicity ! But if you 
know I'm not naturally good, you must also know that I 
at least struggle to be. 

BLANCHE. 
Why, I do that myself! 

PAUL. 

Yes, but you don't fall. I invariably do. I did just 
now, at my window. I 

BLANCHE, laughing. 

You don't mean you fell out of it ! 1 

PAUL. 

That would have hurt me less. No. I looked at you — j 
I looked at you in the garden. 

BLANCHE. 

Oh yes, I went down there — I had finished dressing. 

PAUL. 

/hadn't — but I unblushingly gazed at you. 

BLANCHE. 

I didn't see you — I was admiring the garden. It's verj 
lovely. 

PAUL, explosive. 

Never so lovely as with yon in it ! 



li 



ACT FIRST 2Si 

BLANCHE. 



ph, Mr. Doubleday 



PAUL. 

pee how bad I am ! After I had stared a few moments 
|l came straight down — I followed you in here. 

BLANCHE. 

But how does that " hurt " you ? 

PAUL. 
It excites a train of thought. 

BLANCHE, laughing. 

Like the railway novels ? Thank you ! 

PAUL. 

Mr. Bonsor gave me a tremendous caution. 

BLANCHE. 

So he did me ! 

PAUL. 

And I gave him a tremendous pledge. 

BLANCHE. 

Well, I didn't ! 

PAUL. 

Oh, you're free — because you're good ! 

BLANCHE. 

It's better to have passions and control them. 



254 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Tliat's just what I didn't do — when I came down here! 

BLANCHIC, after an instant. 

Was it a passion that brought you ? 

PAUL. 

I don't know what to call it, Miss Amber. It was an 
emotion not to be controlled ! See, I'm getting worse ! 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

You must pull up — you must recover yourself ! 

PAUL. 
I shall try to do so presently ; but, before I begin, let 
me say this one thing, which was really, I think, the 
idea that made me break my vow ! I want you to 
understand my reserve. 

r 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

I don't see your reserve, Mr. Doubleday ! 

PAUL, quickly, reassuring. 

You will in a moment ! Then please remember this, 
that if I don't speak to you it's because I'm forbidden, 
and if I don't look at you, it's because I'm afraid. 

BLANCHE. 

What are you afraid of? 

PAUL. 
I'm afraid of myself'! 



ACT FIRST 255 

BLANCHE, impressed, taking it very seriously. 

You live, then, in such terror ? 

PAUL. 
Not quite in terror, perhaps, but in very grave anxiety. 
I never know what I may do next ! 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

You frighten me a httle ! 

PAUL. 

Oh, now that I've explained, I shall again put on the 
mask ! 

BLANCHE, sighing. 

The tragic mask ! 

PAUL. 
Not even that : the expressionless ! 

BLANCHE. 

Well, if you mayn't express, / may ! 

PAUL, a little ironic. 

Mustn't you first ask Pitt Brunt ? 

BLANCHE. 

Never ! He has no passions. 

PAUL. 

Yes, he has an easy life of it. 



256 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
He talked to me just now about the Bill of '86. 1 
attach no importance to the Bill of '86 ! 

PAUL, vague. 

You think it didn't go far enough ? 

BLANCHE. 

Mr. Brunt says it went too far ! 

PAUL. 

He always thinks everything '_does. That is doubtless 
the danger ! 

BLANCHE, sympathetic. 

It's the danger that makes the hero ! 

PAUL. 

Oh, Fin not a hero ! I'm too often beaten ! 

BLANCHE, with pity and curiosity. 

The enemy's so strong ? 

PAUL. 

Overwhelming, Miss Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 

It makes your problem wonderfully interesting — your 
situation intensely dramatic. I should like immensely 
to help you ! 

PAUL. 
How can you ? 



ACT FIRST 257 

BLANCHE. 

By fighting at your side. 

PAUL. 

In the thick of the fray ? You'd be scandaUsed ! 

BLANCHE. 

Ah, not so easily ! I can understand temptation — I 
can allow for it ! 

PAUL. 

What do you know about it ? 

BLANCHE, after an instant, quite exalted. 

I've felt it ! 

PAUL. 

But always resisted ! ' 

BLANCHE, after another hesitation, in the same way. 

Not always ! 

PAUL, with vehemence. 

Ah, don't undermine me ! 

BLANCHE. 

Not for the world — but I must look the enemy in the 

face ! (Seeing Pitt Brunt.) SilcUCe ! 



Re-enter Pitt P.runt from the hall and stands looking an instant from 
Blanche to Paul. 



PITT BRUNT, to Paul. 

You're not dressed for dinner? (As if with the habit of setting a 

superior example.' I am ! 

VOL. II S 



258 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Oh, you're good ! But I'll dress now. 



Exit Paul to the hall. • 



BLANCHE, with slight irony, to Pitt Brunt. 

Yes — you're faultless ! 

PITT BRUNT, much gratified. 

Delighted to hear it from you, Miss Amber ! 

BLANCHE. fj 

You wouldn't be if you knew (Pauses, as she turns away, with 

a vague shrug.) 

PITT BRUNT. 

If I knew what ? 

BLANCHE. 

That I can enter into — every aberration ! 

PITT BRUNT, shocked. 

Every one ? 

BLANCHE, reconsidering. 
Well, most ! (Pointing at the door on the left.) What's in thcrC ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

The library. 

BLANCHE. 

I'll look at the books. 

PITT BRUNT. 

They're perfectly unobjectionable. 



ACT FIRST 259 

BLANCHE. 

So much the worse ! 

Exit Blanche to the library. 
PITT BRUNT. 

Awfully paradoxical, but awfully charming ! 

Re-enter, from the hall, Mrs. Freshville accompanied by Cubit. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, to Cubit. 

Don't announce me go away ! (Cubit bows obsequiously and 

e.\it to the hall. To Brunt, familiarly.) Dinner-timC, ch ? 

PITT BRUNT, surprised. 

Do you dine with us ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

No, but I suppose he does, doesn't he ? 

PITT BRUNT, freshly mystified. 

Again, madam, I'm in doubt — 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

No matter — / ain't ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

You're very mysterious, but it's attractive ! Whoever the 
gentleman is, he's dressing. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking about her for her reticule. 

/'// dress him ! Where's my bag ? 



26o THE REPROBATE 

PITT BRUNT. 
Your bag ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I forgot it here — it contains treasures. Please produce it. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Dear madam, how shall I produce it ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

By finding it. I must have it. Look for it. 

PITT BRUNT, glancing about. 

I am looking ; I don't see it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Look more. Go and ask the butler. 

PITT BRUNT. 
I usually ring — for a servant. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

/ don't — I pounce. Try pouncing. 

PITT BRUNT, amused. 

I often try it in the House ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Then " go for him " — there's a dear ! 

PITT BRUNT. 
Oh, if you put it that way — ! 



ACT FIRST 261 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, smiling. 

I'll put it any way you like ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

You're more and more mysterious ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Not when you know me ! 

PITT BRUNT, after an instant. 

I should be glad to make time to know you. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, gay. 

Naughty man ! what would the young lady say ? (Then as 
he protests.) First scc about my bag. 

PITT BRUNT, gratified. 

I'll see about it. 

Exit Pitt Brunt to the hall. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, alone. 

The member for Blackport ? There's more in him than 
meets the eye ! (Then in another tone.) They assemble here 
for dinner? Then for my gentleman ! (As she sees Chanter.) 
As large as life — in my old waistcoat ! 



Re-enter Captain Chanter by the lower door on the right ; stopping short, 
transfixed, appalled. 



CHANTER. 
Nina ? Horrors ! (Then with a quaver of dismay as she simply stands 
before him unmistakable and imperturbable.) What doeS this llieaU ? 



262 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Can't you imagine ? 

CHANTER. 

Nothing so awful ! Go away ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Not without you, my duck. I've come for you ! 

CHANTER, more and more alarmed. 

You're mad — you're wicked — you're indecent ! They'll 
all be here ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then you can present me ! That's what I've waited for. 

CHANTER. 



You've waited ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

All the afternoon. 

CHANTER. 

And who has seen you ? 



MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Only one or two, as yet ; but the rest shall have the 
treat. 

CHANTER, scared, helpless, going up to look out and coming down. 

Nina, do you want to crush me ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Yes, to small pieces. And to pick them up and keep 
them. 



I 



( 



ACT FIRST 263 

CHANTER. 

Keep them in a mortuary urn — you're killing me ! How 
did you get here ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The same way as you, I suppose. By the aid of my wits. 

CHANTER. 

Your wits are remarkable, but they've sadly misled you. 
You've taken a fatal step ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Fatal, no doubt (whipping out the roll of tapestry she has appropriated in 

the first scene) to the perpetrator of this ! 

CHANTER. 

Vou took it ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
To convict you. The last link in the chain ! 

CHANTER. 

Give it back to me ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

To give back to her? Let her give you back first 

(Then tossing the tapestry away.) FaUgh ! 

CHANTER, distracted. 

They're coming ! Let me meet you somewhere else ! 



264 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE, austere. 

At the altar, Captain Chanter — to-morrow ! 

CHANTER. 

Make an appointment with me — we'll talk it over ! 

MRS. FRESH VILLE. 

We'll talk it over now — it'll save time. 

CHANTER. 

I can't — I'm faint ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I've no doubt you are ! 

CHANTER. 

For want of food ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Doesn't she give you enough — with the fortune you're 
hunting so hard ? Come with me and you shall have 
plenty ! 

CHANTER. 

There's no such person as you suppose ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then why are you so afraid she'll see me ? 

CHANTER. 

There are ladies here, but they're innocent — ! 



ACT FIRST 265 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I don't suspect them all — oie will do ! 

CHANTER. 

Who poisoned your mind ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You, and your flagrant bad faith ; your unnatural ab- 
sences and your still more unnatural explanations. So 
I sent for the doctor. 

CHANTER. 

You do run up bills 1 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I sent for two or three. They had a consultation and 
found out what was the matter. 

CHANTER. 

I could have told you for nothing ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

They put their finger on the place ! 

CHANTER, blank. 

What place ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

This place ! They followed you ; they tracked you. 

CHANTER. 

Detectives? (Reproachful, bantering.) Oh, bad Niua ! 



266 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

They showed me the way ! I took it. 

CHANTER, with his hand fumbling in his pocket, going up again and coining 
clown, irresolute, desperate, on pins and needles. 

Then what'll you take noiv ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Nothing, thanks : I had something at the inn ! 



4 



CHANTER. i 

What can I do for you ? X 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. > 

Redeem your solemn vow — make me your wedded wife! 

CHANT ER, stands for an instant thinking, covering his face with his hands. 

Meet me then — to-morrow. I'll come up to town. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
With the ring in your hand ? 

CHANTER. 
And bells on my toes — all the jewelry you want ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

My wants are limited to a i)lain gold circle. And you 
needn't come up to town — I shall be here. 

CHANTER. 

If you don't allow me my freedom of action, how can I 
square her? 



ACT FIRST 267 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 
Allow me mine. /'// square her ! 

CHANTER. 

Don't you see that if you make a scene — ? (Checks himself, 

listening.) 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Well, if I make a scene ? 

CHANTER. 

Why, I'm nowhere ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Well, / ain't — so it doesn't matter ! But I don't mind 
giving you an hour now — for I flatter myself I've got 

you ! 

CHANTER, frightened, as she is going up. 

Don't go that way — wait ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Wait here ? 

CHANTER, still more alarmed. 
No, wait there ! (Pushing her to the lower door on the right.) Don't 

come out till we've gone to dinner ! 

E.xit Mrs. FRESHVILLE, hustled out ; on which Chanter turns, deeply agitated, 
to meet Mrs. Doubleday. Re-enter Mrs. Doubleday from the hall, dressed 
for dinner. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Where's Mr. Bonsor? 

CHANTER. 

I haven't seen him. 



268 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Still looking for that woman ? 

CHANTER, vague, on his guard. 

That woman ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Why, Paul's dreadful connection. 

CHANTER. 

Oh yes ! (To himself.) I wish she 7vere Paul's ! (Thinks an 

instant.) Perhaps she ?V/ (Thenbrealhlesswith the happy thought.) 

That photograph ! — she mtist be ! (Exultant.) Saved ! 

Re-enter Mr. Bonsok from the hall, dressed for dinner. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, to Mr. Bonsor. j 

Did you see her ? ' 

MR. BONSOR. 

No, I hunted — but I had to dress. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

She'll come back — we'll catch her ! 

CHANTER, nervous. 

Oh, let's have dinner first ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
Where are the young people ? 

CHANTER, impatient, seeing Blanche. 

Here's one of them — that's enough ! 

He-enter Blanche Amuek from the library. 



ACT FIRST 269 

MR. BONSOR. 
And where's Pitt Brunt ? 

BLANCHE. 

And where's Mr. Paul ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, reminded, clapping her hand to her pocket. 

The key's in my other dress — I quietly locked him in. 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

He must have escaped — he was here ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, alarmed. 

Here ? 

BLANCHE. 

Ten minutes ago. 

MR. BONSOR, to Mrs. DOUBLEDAY, severe. 

You quietly locked him out ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Mercy — where is he then ? 

Re-enter Cubit from the hall. 
CUBIT, to Mr. BoNsoR. 

Dinner, sir. 



CHANTER, pressing, catching Mrs. Doubleday hy the arm and hurrying 
her up to the hall. 

It doesn't matter — come ! 

Exeunt Captain Chanter and Mrs. Doubleday, and, hurrying after them, Mr. 
BoNSOR and Blanche. As Cubit is about to follow, re-enter Pitt Brunt 
from the lawn. ..,.■ 



270 THE REPROBATE 

CUBIT. 
Dinner, sir. 

PITT BRUNT, resentful 

I've looked for you everywhere. 

CUBIT. 

Doing my 'air, sir. 

PITT BRUNT 

Where's that lady ? 

CUBIT, blank, giving it up. 

Showed herself out ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

But Where's her bag ? 

CUBIT. 

No connection with the luggage, sir. 

PITT BRUNT, mystified. 

I give it up ! 

Exit Pitt Brunt to the hall. 
CUBIT, alone, glancing about him. 

Where is the blessed bag ? A liberal reward — (Pauses 

as he sees Mrs. Freshville.) 

Re-enler Mrs. Freshville by the lower door on the right. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, giving Cubit, in a business-like way, as soon as she 
sees him, another sovereign with which she has already provided herself. 

Add that ! 



ACT FIRST 271 

CUBIT, with the sovereign. 

Sixpence back, ma'am ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

No — keep it ! 

CUBIT. 

For silence, ma'am ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

For anything you like ! 

CUBIT, to himself. 

Thirty-nine and six ! 

Exit Cubit to the hall. Re-enter Paul Doubleday from the garden. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, before seeing Paul. 

But my reticule — with the dear old photo? (Then as Paul 
appears.) Gracious powcrs — the original ! 

PAUL, staring, amazed, coming down. 

Nina? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, with a shriek, throwing' herself into his arms. 

Dudley ! 



ACT SECOND 



Mr. Bonsor's drawing-room. Mr. Bonsor, at the table on the left, 
busily hunting for something, lifting up one object after the other. 
Enter Cubit from the hall. 



CUBIT. 
Did you ring, sir } 

MR. BOXSOR. 

Yes, I want a photograph — a photograjih of Mr. Paul. 

CUBIT. 

DeHghted to liave him took, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

He has been " took," unfortunately ; and the result, which 
was placed upon this table yesterday, by Mrs. Double- 
day, has been surreptitiously removed. 

CUBIT. 

Never put my hand to anything, sir. 

MR. BON.SQR. 
T wisli you'd put your head ! I want Captain Chanter. 



ACT SECOND 273 

CUBIT. 
His photograph, sir? 

MR, BONSOR. 

His presence. 

CUBIT. 

Here it is, sir. 

Enter Captain Chanter from the hall ; to which exit Cubit. 
MR. BONSOR, opening drawers, to Chanter. 

Did you appropriate that photograph — the one Mrs. 
Doubleday showed you ? 

CHANTER, embarrassed. 

Oh, the picture of Paul ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

The picture of Dudley ! It has irrecoverably vanished. 

CHANTER. 

I put it back on the table. (To himself.) Nina recovered 
it? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Then who can have taken it ? 

CHANTER, thinking. 

Dudley ! 

MR. BON.SOR. 

The record of his shame ? 

VOL. II T 






274 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER, prompt. 

To cancel his shame. 

MR. BONSOR, severe. 

There must be no cancelling ! 

CHANTER. 
To annihilate the proof. 

MR. BONSOR. 
There must be no annihilation. We'll cret it back. 



CHANTER. 

ril get it back ! Perhaps you've already heard from 
Mrs. Doubleday that I've accepted onerous functions. 

MR. BONSOR. 
It was precisely on the subject of those functions that I 
desired to converse with you. Mrs. Doubleday has 
imparted to me her project of a second union. 

CHANTER. 

I hope you don't regard it as a defection. It doubles 
the guard ! 

MR. BONSOR, with dignity. 

The guard has hitherto been adequate. 

CHANTER. 

How can you say so in the face of our present alarm ? 



ACT SECOND 275 

MR. BONSOR, still with dignity. 

It's very good of you to share it ! 

CHANTER. 

I feel strongly that you require relief 

MR. BONSOR, virtuous. 
I've never asked for it ! 

CHANTER. 

You're a Stoic — you're a hero ! But remember that 
Mrs. Doubleday's essentially a woman. 

MR. BONSOR. 

It's just what I've endeavoured to forget ! 

CHANTER. 

Such endeavours are vain — I never make them. 
(Looking .-It his watch.) Mrs. Doublcday's late — I'm waiting. 

MR. BONSOR. 

What are you waiting for ? 

CHANTER. 

To take Paul over. 

MR. BONSOR, blank. 

Over where ? 

CHANTER. 

To receive him from her hands. She commits him to 
me — ceremonially. 



I 



276 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
They're preparing, then, for the ceremony. 

CHANTER, grave. 

I've been preparing too. 

MR. BONSOR. 

In what manner? ^M 

CHANTER. ^ 

By meditation. We hope you'll assist at it. 

MR. BONSOR. 

I'll not refuse to show you tliat I appreciate your 
singular zeal. The more so that it's manifested in a 
critical hour. 

CHANTER. 

It was just the crisis that appealed to me ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Are you ready to meet it ? 

CHANTER. 

With your inspiring confidence ! 

MR. BONSOR, after an instant. 
You /iaz>e it ! (They shake hands solemnly ; then Mr. Bonsor looks at 

his watch.) She must be decking him for the solemn rite. 

CHANTER. 

With ribbons and garlands ? 



ACT SECOND 277 

MR. BONSOR. 

With sackcloth and ashes. 

CHANTER, impatient. 

I want to get at huii ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
It's my individual conviction that he has beeii got at ! 

CHANTER. 

You allude to last evening ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

While we were at dinner. Just after the member for 
Blackport had taken his place among us, we were 
startled by the sound of a remarkable concussion. It 
seemed to proceed from the drawing-room. 

CHANTER. 

Which we all invaded — to find it didn't. 

MR. BONSOR. 

All except Blanche. One of the parties to the encounter 
had already vanished, but Paul was on the spot. 

CHANTER. 

Declaring — when examined — that he hadn't laid eyes 
on any one. 

MR. BONSOR. 

It's the first time, remarkable to say, that he has ever 
told an untruth. 



278 THE RETROBATE 

CHANTER. 
Are you sure it is an untruth ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
He was pale, agitated, unnatural. 

CHANTER. 

He didn't wish to compromise the lady ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Hadn't she compromised /ii'm ? 

CHANTER. 

He has no character to lose. But the question shall 
be probed to the bottom. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Please probe it ! 

Re-enter Cubit from the hall. 
CUBIT, announcing. 

Mr. Pitt Brunt ! 

Enter Pitt Brunt from the hall. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Have you brought your luggage ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

It consists mainly of my quotations — twenty volumes 
of Hansard. 



I 



ACT SECOND 279 

CHANTER. - 
Your quotations must be singularly copious ! 

MR. BONSOR, to Chanter. 

He will contribute to those of posterity. (To Cubit.) 
Arrange the twenty volumes. 

PITT BRUNT, to Cubit. 

Chronologically ! 

Exit Cubit to the hall. 
MR. BONSOR, to Chanter. 

The member for Blackport is to meet his electors. 

PITT BRUNT. 
I'm writing my speech — and trying it on Mr. Bonsor. 

CHANTER. 

I hope it'll be a comfortable fit. I'll not interfere with 
the process. 

Exit Captain Chanter by the lower door on the right. 
MR. BONSOR, to Brunt. 

It will save time to have you in the house, And then 
there's another reason. 

PITT BRUNT, as Blanche appears. 
Here's the other reason ! (Enter Blanche Amber from the hall 
with a railway novel in her hand.) Good moming. I've COmC tO 

stay ! 



28o THE RETROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

I'm very happy, this morning, to feel that that's just 
what I've done ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

Isn't it a remarkably interesting house ? 

BLANCHE. 

Fascinating ! (Mr. Bonsor and Pitt Brunt look at each other, and 
Blanche considers a moment the cover of her railway novel. Then she speaks 

abruptly.) Dear uncle ! (Holding out her book.) Is that im- 
proper ? 

MR. BONSOR, with the book, looking at the cover with his glasses. 

A lady and gentleman, engaged — 

BLANCHE. 

Oh, they're not engaged ! 

PITT BRUNT, interested. 

What are they doing ? 

MR, BONSOR. 
Embracing ! (Dubious, disapproving, while he still looks.) If they're 

not engaged — 

PITT BRUNT. 

They ought to be ! (To Blanche.) Every one who isn't 
ought to be. 

BLANCHE. 

From a sense of duty ? I'm afraid I've no conscience. 
(To Mr. Bonsor.) May I lend that book to Mr. Paul ? 



ACT SECOND 281 

MR. BONSOR, looking at her severely over his glasses. 

. The question exemplifies your deficiency ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

I You may lend it to me. 

BLANCHE, taking the book back. 

You wouldn't understand it ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

You've got your Hansard. 

Re-enter Cubit from the hall. 
CUBIT, to Brunt. 

I think I've set them straight, sir. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Chronologically ? 

CUBIT, blank an instant. 

No, sir, on their sides. 

MR. BONSOR, to Brunt. 

Go and see. 

PITT BRUNT, smiling to Blanche. 

I must make them sit up ! 

E.xit Pitt Brunt to the hall. Exit Cubit. 
MR. BONSOR. 

He makes the House ! 

BLANCHE, tossing down her book. 

Isn't he supposed to know anything! 



282 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR, who has taken up the book. 

The member for Blackport ? 

BLANCHE. 

The prisoner of Chillon ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

I 
He's supposed to know too much ! The harm's done, 

but we endeavour to prevent its spreading. (He goes to the 

cabinet on the right, opens it and, seeing Mrs. Freshville's reticule, which he 
has put away there, considers an instant, and then, as if with a happy thought, 
plumps the book into it. To himself.) JuSt do for /^(?r/ 

BLANCHE, who has not seen this proceeding ; musing, objecting. 

He seems after all to do nothing ! 

MR. BONSOR, triumphant. 

What did he do last night ? 

BLANCHE. 

I haven't the least idea. (Then after an instant.) But I 
should like to help you ! 

MR. BONSOR, suspicious. 

Everyone would like to " help " me ! 



BLANCHE. 

You must double the guard ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

That's what ihey all say ! 



4 



ACT SECOND 2S3 

BLANCHE. 

It shows there's something in it ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

There may be something in it, but it's not what I sent 
for you for. 

BLANCHE, turning aw.iy with a groan. 

Ah, dear uncle, I know what you sent for me for ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

The member for Blackport's tlie Idol of the North ! 

BLANCHE. 

The idol should remain in his temple. 

MR. BONSOR, indignant. 

What would the House do without him ? 

BLANCHE. 

Perhaps it would wake up ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

The House is his temple ! He's the young man of the 
hour. 

BLANCHE. 

Do you mean of the dinner-hour ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

There's not a question of the day that he has not made 
his own. 



284 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

Well, dear uncle, as /'w not the question of the day — 

MR. BONSOR. 
You would none the less have your appointed place. 
His private life would be worthy of his public. 

BL-A-XCHE. 

But should / be worthy of his private ? 

MR. BONSOR. '' 

Let him read you his momentous speech. 

BLANCHE. 

Is it very long ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
Not yet ; but it will be. It's growing fast. 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

Then I'll take it when it's little, (in another tone.) But, all 
the same, I'm interested in Mr. Paul. 

MR. BONSOR, disconcerted. 

" Interested " ? 

BLANCHE. 

I regard him as an object of charity. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Why so ? His wants are provided for ! 



ACT SECOND 285 

BLANCHE. 

There are wants and wants. Why not let him have — 

MR. BONSOR, as she pauses, thinking. 

Let him have what ? 

BLANCHE. 

One's scraps of leisure — one's ideas of life. 

MR. BONSOR. 

He's not a person for you to meet on a social basis. 

BLANCHE. 

Oh, I want to approach him in a missionary spirit. 

< 

MR. BONSOR. 

You won't convert him. 

BLANCHE. 

Perhaps not. (SmiUng.) But I'll clothe him ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

That is the first proper step ; but have you the material ? 

BLANCHE, laughing. 

Yards and yards and yards ! 

Re-enter Captain Chanter from the lower door on the right. 
CHANTER. 

Have they come ? 



286 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
They've come. 

Enter Mrs. Doubledav and Paul from the hall while Blanche and 
Chanter converse. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, perceiving this. 

Captain ! (Chanter instantly quits Blanche and comes to her, a mov 
ment which leaves Paul exposed. As Blanche moves a little nearer to Pal 
Mrs. Doubleday resumes.) Paul ! 

PAUL, startled, coming down to her. 

Mamma ? 

Re-enter from the hall Pitt Brunt, with several volumes of Hansard under 
one arm and a portfolio under the other. 

PITT BRUNT, to Mr. Bonsor. 
May I work in the hbrary ? 

MR. BONSOR, assenting. 

My niece will assist you. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Oh, Miss Amber ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

She's eager to hsten to your speech. 



I 



PITT BRUNT. 
She shall I (Then looking round complacently at the company.) 

Perhaps you'd all like to listen. 



ACT SECOND 287 

PAUL, very prompt. 

Mamma, would it be safe for me ? 

PITT BRUNT, smiling. 

It wouldn't if you had to reply to me ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He's never allowed to reply ! 

CHANTER, to Brunt. 

An arrangement is pending by which I shall henceforth 
answer for him. But I'm afraid that, for the present, 
we must occupy ourselves exclusively with this arrange- 
ment. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Before we enter upon it, I beg Mr. Bonsor to mention- — 

MR. BONSOR, blank, while she pauses as if from delicacy. 

To mention — ? 

CHANTER. 

The nature of the connection about to be formed. 

BLANCHE, eager. 

Matrimonial ? 

PAUL, struck, echoing. 

Matrimonial ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with reprobation. 

Paul! 



288 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, wondering. 

Is that not the nature of the connection ? 

MR. BONSOR, with reprobation. 

Blanche ! 

BLANCHE, to Paul, smiling. 

But it must be either one thing or the other, musn't it ? 



PAUL. 
I'm never allowed to reply. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You will therefore receive without comment — 

MR. BONSOR, as she hesitates. 

As / have done — 

CHANTER. 

The news of your mother's intended marriage- 

BLANCHE, as he hesitates. 

To Captain Chanter, I'm sure. 

PAUL, struck, precipitate. 

The Captain ? — By jingo ! 

MR. BONSOR, privately, to Mrs. Doubleday. 

He hadn^i taken it in ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

We never crossed the line. 



i 



ACT SECOND 289 

MR. BONSOR. 
It excites a train of thought. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

That was just our scruple. 

MR. BONSOR. 
He thinks it reheves him. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, emphatic. 

It doesn't ! 

PITT BRUNT, gay, to Mrs. Doubleday. 
I'm sorry for Mr. BonSOr ! (To Mr. Bonsor, summarily presenting 
the Hansards in a pile.) Just take these. 

MR. BONSOR, vague, but receiving the Hansards. 

What am I to do with them ? 

PITT BRUNT, prompt. 

Verify. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Can't you verify ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I must give my attention to Miss Amber. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Miss Amber had better give hers to us ! 

BLANCHE, 

With pleasure, Mrs. Doubleday. 

VOL. II u 



290 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

To see Paul committed. 

PAUL, alarmed. 

Committed ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I'm going to make you over. 

PAUL, rueful. 

You've been trying that all my life ! 



I 



MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

This time I shall succeed. I deliver you to the 
Captain. 

CHANTER, passing between Mrs. Doudleday and Paul. 

I beg to acknowledge receipt ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, to Paul. 

You're to look up to him as you've looked up to me. 

CHANTER. 

I become, as it were, your second mother. 

MR. BONSOR. 

As I've been, as it were, your second father ! 

PAUL, resigned, bewildered. 

I seem to have plenty of relations ! 



ACT SECOND 291 

BLANCHE. 

Shouldn't you like a sister thrown in ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The family is quite large enough ! (Privately to Chanter.) 
I wanted her to take it in ! 

CHANTER. 

She sliall take it in ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, who has e.\tracted a small coin from her portemonnaie. 

Let me hand you this. 

CHANTER, with the coin, vague. 

Sixpence ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

His allowance. 

CHANTER. 

It doesn't pass through his hands ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

We apply it to some benevolent object. 

CHANTER, pocketing the si.xpence. 

It shall be devoted to a worthy one ! 

MR. BONSOR, to Chanter. 

You'll find your place no sinecure. 

CHANTER, virtuous. 

No — but Mrs. Doubleday will breathe ! 



292 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Not yet — I disseminate the news, 

CHANTER. 

You rush up to London ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I rush to my writing-desk. 

Exit Mrs. DOUBLEDAY to the hall. 
PITT BRUNT, to Mr. Bonsor. 

I sent the others to your room. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Most kind of you. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Thirteen volumes — to verify. 

MR. BONSOR, going up. 
I'll verify. 

PITT BRUNT. 
You're forgetting these. (Takes and presents again those he has 

brought in.) Twenty in all. 

MR. BONSOR, impressive, to Blanche, as he takes the pile in his two arms. 

The Idol of the North ! 

E.xit Mr. CoNSOR to the hall with the books. 
PITT BRUNT, gracious, opening the door of the library to Blanche. 

He's ready to mount his pedestal. 



ACT SECOND 293 

BLANCHE. 

Do you want me to hold it while you get on ? 

PITT BRUNT, smiling. 

It won't run away ! 

BLANCHE. 

I wish you would ! 

PITT BRUNT, arch, at the door of the library. 

For you to run after me ? 

Exit Pitt Brunt. 

CHANTER, looking from Blanche to Paul a moment, then reflecting, 
deciding and taking two half-crowns out of his pocket. 

Let me hand you this ! 

PAUL, with the money, surprised. 

Five shillings ? 

CHANTER. 

Your allowance. 

PAUL. 

Four and sixpence too much ! 

CHANTER. 

I change the system — I increase the sum ! 

PAUL, helpless, appealing. 

What shall I do with it ? 

CHANTER, gay, cynical. 

Whatever you like ! 



294 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, looking from Paul to Chanter ; then resolutely, as if with a 
sudden inspiration. 

Captain Chanter, will you leave mc a moment with Mr. 
Paul ? 

CHANTER. 

Do you want to rifle him ? 

BLANCHE. 
I want to advise him ! 

CHANTER. 
As much as you like ! 

Exit Captain Chanter by the lower door on the right. 

PAUL, amazed, quite scandalised, looking after Chanter while he puts the 
money in his waistcoat-pocket. 

I can't look up to him ! 

BLANCHE, laughing. 
He inspires me with positive reverence ! 

PAUL. 
Mamma wouldn't have left me with you ! 

BLANCHE. 
I wouldn't have asked her ! 

PAUL. 

Mr. Bonsor wouldn't have done it either ! t 

BLANCHE. 

I wouldn't have asked him ! -" 



ACT SECOND 295 

PAUL. 

You knew your man, eh ? 

BLANCHE. 

I divined him ! 

PAUL. 

You just took a shot ! 

BLANCHE. 

You see it succeeded. 

PAUL. 

Yes, isn't it awful ? 

BLANCHE. 

Ah, don't say that when I'm fighting at your side ! 

PAUL, 

Thanks — but you do undermine me ! 

BLANCHE. 

Why, if I asked him to go it was on purpose to prop 
you up. 

PAUL. 

It's just when you prop me, you know, that I seem 
most to come down ! 

BLANCHE. 
Don't think of me as a mere young lady ; think of me 
as an invalid's attendant — as a doctor — as a district 
nurse. 



296 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 

A sort of sister of charity, eh ? 

BLANCHE. 

Yes, but not in the least of a strict order. 

PAUL. 

Strict orders are issued to me daily ! 

BLANCHE. 
Oh, I shall be easy with you, for I know you're in trouble. 

PAUL, anxious, looking round. 

Indeed I am in trouble ! 

BLANCHE. 

Your wild past comes back to you. 

PAUL. 

It came back last night. But it only stayed a minute. 

BLANCHE. 

Such minutes must be wonderful ! 

PAUL. 

They do upset one ! 

BLANCHE. 
They make you feel you live ! 

PAUL. 

Yes, but in the tomb of my reputation. 



ACT SECOND 297 

BLANCHE. 

Ah, you're not buried ; your tomb is open to the sky. 
You see the sun and the stars ; you feel the wind and 
the weather ! 

PAUL. 

The wind and the weather very much, Miss Amber. I 
shouldn't wonder if I were taking cold ! 

BLANCHE. 

What of that ? You won't, at least, have vegetated ! 

(Then as she goes.) / shall ! 

PAUL. 

Where are you going ? 

BLANCHE. 

To study to be a cabbage ! 

PAUL. 
Well, it's simpler ! 

BLANCHE. 

Oh, I shall be simple. I should say the penny kind ! 

PAUL. 

Meanwhile I must continue the struggle. 

BLANCHE. 

Yes, till you can fight no more ! 

PAUL. 

And ivhen I can fight no more ? 



298 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, at the door of the library, considering. 

I'll tell you then what to do ! 

Exit Blanche. 
PAUL, alone. 

Yes, I shan't have vegetated ! I should have been only 
yesterday the ornament of a kitchen -garden, but her 

hand has plucked me up ! (Then, as he sees Mrs. Freshville.) 

For hers to prepare me for the table ? 

Enter Mrs. Freshville from the hall. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, breathless, hurrying down. 

Dudley ! 

PAUL, who has receded to the door of the library', looking at her in 
melancholy contemplation. 

Nina 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, stopping short in the middle of the stage. 

No hug for Nina? 

PAUL, checking her with his finger to his lips. 

When we hug they hear it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Did they hear it last night ? 

PAUL. 
Distinctly. They rushed in. Fortunately you had 
rushed out. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Yes, my boy, you did bundle me ! 



ACT SECOND 299 

PAUL. 

How did you get in now ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I The same way as before. I've bought the butler. 

PAUL. 

Cubit must be rather expensive ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

A pound a visit. 

I PAUL. 

It comes pretty high. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

About the same as a high-class doctor. But, my dear 

child, I consider you worth it ! (Looking at him a moment.) 

You do look so fresh ! 

PAUL, uneasy, distressed. 

Nina, I beg you not to allude to my appearance ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Why should you be ashamed of it ? You look awfully 
young. 

PAUL. 

I feel awfully young ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Taken care of yourself, eh ? 



4 

i 



300 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
I should say, rather, I have been taken care of ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Well, / haven't ! How do / look ? 

PAUL. 

You look like somebody else. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You think I've a different type ? 

PAUL. 

Haven't you got different hair ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Oh yes ; it used to be red. 

PAUL. 

My dear, it used to be black ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Oh, black, was it ? Red the year before. But your's, 
darling, is the same ! 

PAUL. 

My hair may be the same, Nina, but everything else is 
changed. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Yes, everything docs change, Dudley ! 



ACT SECOND 301 

PAUL. 

One's very name, to begin with. I'm not Dudley now ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, surprised. 

Then what are you, pray ? 

PAUL. 

A mere anonymous nobody ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, in friendly compassion. 

It's all over, eh ? 

PAUL. 

It was over long ago ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Short and sweet, eh ? (Then as he checks her again, listening, with 

his finger to his lips.) What's the matter ? 

PAUL. 

I thought they were coming ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, undistiubed. 

But they ain't, eh ? 

PAUL. 

I hope not. I'm trying to be good. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

So am I ; but I'm not very sure it pays ! 

PAUL, struck, suppliant. 

Ah, Nina, don't say that ! 



302 THE REPROBATE I 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Why not, if it's true ? You live up to a standard 
because you think some others do ; and after you've 
had all the worry — 

PAUL, as she pauses. 

Yes, Nina ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Why, you find they don't ! 

PAUL, wondering. 

Don't they really ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

See what an awful sell ! You go spinning along the 
patli of virtue, and if at the end of the run you happen 
to look back, what do you see ? 

PAUL. 

I never look back ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

All ot them sitting down ! 

PAUL. 

I never sit down ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Partaking freely of refreshment. 

PAUL. 

I never partake ! 



ACT SECOND 303 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

No more do I ; but I feel the want of it ! 

PAUL. 
You have your equivalent : you've acquired the habit of 
virtue. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Yes, that's the worst of it : you've got to go on. 

PAUL. 

Let me earnestly entreat you to do so ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm going on ; that's what has brought me here ! 

PAUL. 

Yes, on the railroad of virtue this is certainly a lively 
station ! But how did you find it out ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

By the aid of the police. 

PAUL, alarmed. 

The police ? Are they after me ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You, my dear fellow ? I didn't come for you ! 

PAUL, blank. 

Who did you come for ? 



304 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Ain't there another rascal on the premises ? 

PAUL, amazed. 

Mr. Bonsor ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Try again ! 

PAUL. 

Captain Chanter ? (Then perceiving her assent.) The poHce 
are after him ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Not now — but / am ! It's better. 

PAUL. 
What do you want of him ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I want to marry him. 

PAUL. 
Marry him ? Why, he's engaged ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Right you are — to me. 

PAUL, stupefied. 

You and my mother ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Is she your mother? 



ACT SECOND 305 

PAUL. 

My stepmother. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That monster ? 

PAUL. 

Don't abuse her, Nina — she's my guardian ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Your guardian ? (Struck.) Are you the common object ? 

PAUL, blank. 

The common object ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That I heard about yesterday — such a pecuhar case. 

PAUL. 

I am a peculiar case ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You're vicious, eh ? 

PAUL, 

Fundamentally ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, dubious. 

So bad you require two of them ? 

PAUL. 

I require three — with the Captain. 

VOL, II X 



3o6 



Is he one ? 



THE REPROBATE 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, amazed 

PAUL. 



He looks after my morals. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
And who looks after his ? 

PAUL, wondering, artless. 

Why, I thought they were perfect ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
So did I. But they ain't ! 

PAUL, thinking. 

That won't suit Mamma ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then let her drop him ! 



PAUL. 



That won't suit him ! 



MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
He's too particular. Leave him to me. 

PAUL, an.\ious. 

And what'll you do with him ? 



ACT SECOND 307 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Do with him ? (After an instant, considering.) ScC he letS 

you alone. 

PAUL, anxious. 

Then what'll become of me ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'll look after you myself! 

PAUL, astonished. 

After both of us ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
It will be all one job ! (After looking at him a moment.) As 

for you — I don't believe it ! 

PAUL. 

Don't believe what ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Why, that you're a peculiar case. 

PAUL. 

Then look at the evidence ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Hang the evidence ! Try — and see. 

PAUL. 

Try ? Try what ? 



3o8 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Try everything ! 

PAUL. 
Why, everything's wrong ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Vou are, my dear, to begin with ! Everything's right ! 

PAUL, bewildered. 

Everything's deuced awkward, at any rate ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Your dear old face, as you say that, comes back to me ! 

PAUL. 

Don't let it, Nina — for heaven's sake send it away ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

With that sweet little waxed moustache. What have 
you done with the ends ? 

PAUL. 

They've followed those of all the candles and cigars ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The burnt-out fires? — the withered flowers? You 
always had a lovely buttonhole. 

PAUL. 

I've given up buttonholes — they look too dissolute. 



ACT SECOND 309 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Dissolute ? — the flowers of the field ? I never heard of 
such rot ! 

PAUL. 

Neither have I, Nina ! But they wouldn't like me to 
say so. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

" They " ? Mamma and the Captain ? 

PAUL. 

Perhaps the Captain wouldn't object — 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I should like to see him ! 

PAUL. 

But such an expression wouldn't go unrebuked by Mr. 
Bonsor. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The old busybody who chased you to Paris ? 

PAUL, prompt. 

Oh, he was my father ! (Then struck.) Gracious, what 
have 1 said ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The simple truth. They did make a rumpus about 
nothing ! 

PAUL. 

Not exactly nothing ! 



3IO • THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Nothing worth speaking of! 

PAUL. 

I don't speak of it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

But they do still, eh ? 

PAUL. 
To every one they see 1 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

To the Captain, do you suppose ? 

PAUL. 

Oh, above all to the Captain ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, after consideration. 

Well, that's no matter. He doesn't know it was me. 

PAUL. 

He'll find it out. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I don't care if he does ! 

PAUL. 

Not if he wants to marry you ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

He doesn't ! 



ACT SECOND 311 

PAUL, reasoning, perplexed. 

Still — if he's engaged — ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

He's engaged to your mamma. If he can stand your 
mamma, he can stand me. 

PAUL. 

But how can he marry you both ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Trust him to manage it — if it's necessary ! But it ain't 
necessary. 

PAUL. 

I'm glad of that ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

He'll chuck your mamma. 

PAUL, rueful. 

So that I shall receive her on the rebound ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, struck, compassionate. 

No, that won't do, you poor dear, will it ? (After another 
instant, sociable.) We did hit it off, me and you, didn't we, 
Dud? 

PAUL. 

I confess I was rather afraid of you. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You've got over that, I hope ! 



312 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
I think I'm gaining confidence. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

So am I, though you gave me, last night, a turn. 

PAUL. 
I didn't sleep a wink ! 



I 



MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Nor me, fancy ! I thought of the old days — of the way 
I used to sing to you ! 

PAUL, beguiled. 

Do you remember your old songs ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, eager. 

Should you like to hear one ? 

PAUL, suddenly alarmed. 

Heavens, no ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, as he goes up, on his guard. 

They're out of fashion now ; they've got a new lot ! 

PAUL, coming down. 

Are you still at the Waterloo ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Dear, no ; bless the old shop ! 



ACT SECOND 313 

PAUL, after an instant, gentle. 

Your voice was very sweet, Nina. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

So was yours, old chap. Do you still sing ? 

PAUL, aghast. 

Sing? Why, I scarcely speak ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I remember how little you thought of your own powers. 
You only wanted ine to develop ! 

PAUL. 
I'm bound to say you did develop ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Through the course of instruction you so liberally pro- 
vided. It was for that we went to Paris. 

PAUL, recalling, recognising. 

Yes, it was simply for that ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Our musical studies. Where was the awful harm ? 

PAUL, thinking. 

After all, where was it ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

We simply went in for a thorough course. 



314 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
We thought it our duty to hear what they were doing. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, reminiscent, wistful. 

Ah, they do such a lot ! What was that place ? The 
Alcazar ! 

PAUL. 

And that other ? The Eldorado ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLr:. 

And the Valentino ! 

PAUL. 

And the Solferino ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That was where at last they collared us ! 

PAUL, starting, seeing Chanter. 

They've collared us again ! 

Re-enter Captain Chanter, with a yellow-covered French novel and a bo.\ of 
cigars, by the lower door on the right. 

CHANTER, bland. 

Good morning, Mrs. Freshville. 

PAUL, surprised. 

Is that your name now ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, ominous, looking at Chantsr. 

Not the one he generally uses ! Didn't I mention that 
I've been married ? 



ACT SECOND 315 

CHANTER, smiling. 

You must have had so much else to say ! (To Paul.) 
She belongs to the category of irresistible widows. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

But not to the most irresistible part of it. (With intensity, to 
Chanter.) Thosc with fivc thousand a year. 

PAUL, to Chanter ; still meek and respectful, but explanatory and lucid. 

I've had the pleasure of some previous acquaintance 
with Mrs. Freshville. 

CHANTER, genial. 

My dear fellow, I know all about it ! 

PAUL, to INIrs. Freshville, rueful. 

He knows all about it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I don't care a rap what he knows ! 

CHANTER, frank and gay. 
I shall make you care ! (To Paul, sociable, handing the cigar-bo.x.) 

Have a Regalia ? 

PAUL, looking at the cigars hard an instant, then hard at Chanter, as if to 
fathom his tortuous ways. 

What will Mamma say ? 



3i6 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER, smiling, tempting. 

I won't tell her ! (Paul, hesitating, takes a cigar out of the case, turns 
away with it and stands a moment looking at it. Chanter, meanwhile, selects 
one for himself. Paul, suddenly, with a nervous movement, jerks away his 1 
own cigar, tosses it on a table and goes up, uneasily, nervously. Chanter, 
lighting a cigar, continues to Mrs. Freshville.) Shall I Offer yOU 

one ? ■ 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, with her hand on her pocket. | 

I've got my cigarettes ! (Feeling.) No, I haven't ; they're 

in my reticule. (Looking, with renewed despair, about her.) Where 

the dickens is it ? 

CHANTER, cool, without moving. 

Don't mind. I'll find it ! (Then to Paul.) I say, here's a 
book for you. 

PAUL, eager, coming down. 

A book ? 

CHANTER, handing him his yellow-covered volume. 

A little French novel ! 

PAUL, timid, taking the book. 

Zola ? 

CHANTER, puffing his cigar. ^ 

Zola ! 

PAUL, gazing at the cover. 

What will Mamma say ? 



I 



ACT SECOND 317 

CHANTER. 



I won't tell her ! 



Paul turns away slowly, with his novel, as he has done with his cigar, and 
looks in the same way at the cover without opening it. Then he tosses it 
down, as he has tossed his cigar, and goes up, with the same nervous move- 
ment, to stand an instant at the window and look out at the lawn. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, seated, to Chanter. 

Ain't you ashamed, you horrid thing ? 

CHANTER. 
Ain't you, you designing woman ? (Then as he draws a pack of 
cards from his pocket and holds it out to Paul.) I Say, choOSC a Card. 

PAUL, alert, coming down. 

A card ? 

CHANTER. 

One of these. 

PAUL. 

What will Mamma say ? 

CHANTER 

I won't tell her ! 

PAUL, looking at the cards, fascinated but hesitating. 

What are you doing ? 

CHANTER. 

A little trick. Take any you like. (.\s Paul draws out a card.) 
What is it ? 

PAUL. 

The Queen of Hearts ! 



3i8 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, seated. 

Graceful allusion to me .' 

CHANTER. 
Please keep it till I take it back. j 

Paul turns away in the same manner as before, stops, looks irresolutely at the 
card, then gets rid of it as he has done of the cigar and the book. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, to Chanter, nodding at his pack. 

My old pack ? 

CHANTER, v.-igue. 

Yours ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The one we generally use. 

CHANTER. 
I just sent out to buy it. (Then after he has placed the cards well 
in evidence on the table.) Dudlcy ! 

PAUL, more dryly, coming down. 

Sir? 

CHANTER. 

Will you do me a favour ? You'll find on the table in 
my room — 

PAUL, an.xious, as Chanter pauses. 

I shall find—? 

CHANTER. 

A flask of brandy. 



i 



ACT SECOND 319 

PAUL, blank. 

What shall I do with it ? 

CHANTER. 

Anything you like ! 

PAUL, horrified. 

Captain, have mercy on me ! 

CHANTER. 
Then bring it here to me ! (As Paul looks at him in a silent 
appeal, he adds.) Do get it, oM felloW ! 

PAUL, divided, to Mrs. Fresh ville. 

Shall I get it ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Oh, / don't care what mamma says ! 

PAUL, after another instant, snapping his fingers. 

No more then do I ! 

Exit Paul Doubleday to the hall. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, rising, abrupt. 

Are the invitations out ? 

CHANTER. 

I haven't the faintest idea what you mean ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

For your marriage to that old dragon. 



320 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 

I suppose I may keep a secret — after discovering 
you've nurtured one for years. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

All the more that yours is so horrid ! Dudley liked 
me, and I liked him, and I'm not ashamed of it. I was 
grateful to him for his interest in my voice. 



CHANTER, sarcastic. 

Oh, your voice ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Don't sniff at it — you were glad enough to hear it ! 



I 



CHANTER. 

And to which of us, this morning, have you come here 
to sing ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You'll understand when I tell you that though last 
night I had engaged my room at the inn, I went back 
to town for my music. 

CHANTER. 

Your music ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Perhaps I ought to say yours ! Your notes of hand. 

CHANTER. 

The stuff I wrote you ? (Thinking.) You can't make a 
scene with my letters now. 



ACT SECOND 321 

AIRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Why ain't it a happy moment ? 

CHANTER. 

Simply because you'll do for Dudley. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I don't mind that — if I do for you ! 

CHANTER 

Where are the few lines I inadvertently traced ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

There are enough of them to stuff out my pocket. 

(As he looks at her, up and down, askance.) YoU needn't CrOUCh 

for a spring — I'll fight for them ! 

CHANTER, nervous, throwing away his cigar. 

You're criminally vulgar ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
I often think it's a comfort ! But I feel as if I had a 
small family in my pocket, and now I should like my 
reticule. 

Chanter goes to the cupboard on the right, in whicli Mr. Bonsor has placed 
the reticule, and takes it out. He brings it to her and she receives it and 
opens it. She pulls out Blanche's railway novel, which Mr. Bonsor has 
put into it, and looks at the book with surprise. Then she flings it down 
on the table. 

That book's not mine ! 

VOL. II Y 



322 THE RETROBATE 

CMAN'TER, taking up the book. 
Who's is it ? (Reading the name on the title-page.) Blanche 

Amber ? 

MRS. FRE.SHVILLE, who has fumbled in the reticule, in dismay. 

And the photo's gone ! 

CHANTER. 

The photo ? 

5 MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking about her, vexed. 

Dudley's ! 

CHANTER. 

Was it in there ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. ; 

I carry it about. 

CHANTER. 

And what do you do with mine ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Lock it up at home ! Where is the confounded thing? 

CHANTER, still with Blanche's book. 

Some one obviously sneaked it. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, vague. 

Who the mischief — ? 

CHANTER. 

The person who left this instead. 



ACT SECOND 323 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That nasty book ? Who /s the brute ? 

CHANTER. 

The brute is Miss Blanche Amber. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, recalling. 

The girl who arrived yesterday ? 

CHANTER. 

Just in time to grab it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The one who's engaged to the public man ? 

CHANTER. 

The member for Blackport ? They're not engaged 
quite yet. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

He's awfully spoony. 

CHANTER. 

Well, s/ie isn't ! (After a moment.) I'll get the photograph 
back from her. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Very good of you. Get it immediately. 

CHANTER. 

You must give me time — she'll cleave to it ! 



324 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

Cleave to my property — the horrid Httlc thief? 

CHANTER. 

You must allow for her feelings ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, vague. 

What feelings, pray ? 

CHANTER. 

Why, she's in love with him ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

With Dudley ? Since when ? 

CHANTER, with assurance. 

Since yesterday ! He makes them toe the mark ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Does he make them steal ? 

CHANTER. 

He makes them do anything ! 

He goes up rapidly to the window as soon as he has spoken ; while Mrs. 
FuESHViLLE sinks slowly again into the chair from which she has risen, 
and, with her reticule open on her knees, transfers to it mechanically, with 
an air of intense preoccupation, one by one, a dozen loose letters that she 
has taken from her pocket. She takes them out successively, looking at 
the superscriptions. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, who has counted the letters andfastened her reticule. 

Thirteen, and five telegrams ! 



ACT SECOND 325 

CHANTER, who has stood uneasily at the wuidow, coming down, looking 
at his watch. 

Give me half an hour, and Til bring you the photo at 
the inn ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, rising again, smiling, with the reticule on her arm. 

In exchange for your letters ? Too dear ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh, bother my letters — do what you like with them ! 
Make any row your bad taste may suggest, but for 
heaven's sake let it be a row that won't hurt Dudley ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
Hurt him — how ? 

CHANTER. 
By showing that you and he are at it again ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

We ain't at it again ! 

CHANTER. 

You present an appearance of it that won't improve his 
situation. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

His situation's a farce ! 

CHANTER. 

So it is, but you must sit the farce out. 



326 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And you ? Were yoii sitting it out just now ? 

CHANTER. 

Oh, I'm in the performance. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

As the leading villain ? You corrupt his innocence ? 

CHANTER. 

His innocence is a thin veneer. Scratch the Russian 
and you find the Tartar — scratch Paul and you find 
Dudley ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Well, if you scratch him again I'll scratch you, I can 
promise you ! 

CHANTER. 

I'm weak with him — I humour him — I spoil him : all 
that I admit. But that's nothing compared to the 
mess that you'll make for him by compromising him. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, after a moment. 

You're a mass of deceit, but I don't see what you'll 
gain by not bringing me the photo. 

CHANTER, pressing, watchful. 

I swear to you I'll bring it in half an hour. I hear 
some one comins; ! 



ACT SECOND 327 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, thinking. 

Poor dear old Dud ! (Then to Chanter.) It's a pity you're 
such a fiend ! 

CHANTER, pleading, feverish. 

Don't }'OTi be one — don't sacrifice him ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking at her watch. 

In half an hour ? 

CHANTER. 

To the minute ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You're unspeakable — but I've got you /wr / (She slaps her 

reticule triumphantly and goes up.) 

CHANTER, who is up before her, listening by the door of the hall and 
checking her. 

^Vait ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, indicating the lower door on the right. 

I won't go in //lere again ! 

CHANTER, passing quickly to the window. 

T//is way ! It's an escape ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, as she goes; warning. 

Not for yoH ! 

E.xit Mrs. FRESHVILLE to the lawn. 
CHANTER, alone, exhausted but exultant. 

She has " got " me, eh ? Not quite so tight as I've 

got her ! 



328 THE REPROBATE 



1 



i 



Re-enter Paul Doubleday from the hall with a silver-mounted travelling-flask, 
P.VUL, tossing the flask down. 

There ! 

CHANTER, taking it up and shaking it as he smiles at Paul. 

Vou haven't drunk it up ? ' 

PAUL, looking about him after a gesture of disgusted repudiation. 

She's gone ? 

CHANTER, laying the flask on a table. 

Thank our stars ! 

P.VUL, breaking out. 

I say, you know — what are you up to ? 

CHANTER, with sudden wild gestures. 

I'm in a fever — I'm in a frenzy : my head goes round ! 

(As Pail stares at him, bewildered.) I don't knOW what I Say 

I don't know what I do ! 

P.VUL, after a moment. 

You seem indeed in an extraordinary position ! 

CH.\NTER. 

Dudley, I throw myself on your mercy ! 

PAUL. 

If you really want it, don't call me Dudley. 

CHANTER. 

I'll rail you anything you like if you'll only help me. 



ACT SECOND 329 

PAUL. 

How on earth can I help you ? 

CHANTER. 

By your generous influence. I was an ass to yield to 
her! 

PAUL. 

To yield to Mamma ? 

CHANTER. 

No, tJiat was inevitable. 

PAUL. 

So I've always found it ! 

CHANTER. 

I succumbed— originally — to Nina. 

PAUL. 

It wasn't original ! Where did you meet her ? 

CHANTER, waving away inquiries. 

Oh, in society ! She has my written vows. 

PAUL, struck. 

I wonder if she has mine ! 

CHANTER. 

Oh, yours don't matter ! 

PAUL. 
Don't they, though ! 



330 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 
They shant matter, Paul, if you'll save me ! 

PAUL. 

How on earth can I save you ? 

CHANTER. 

As I tell you, by squaring her. 

PAUL, vague. 

Squaring Mrs. Doubleday ? 

CHANTER. 
Squaring Mrs. Freshville ! (More agitated the more he thinks.) 

It's quite too awful ! 

PAUL, considering. 

How far have you gone with her ? 

CHANTER. 

With Mrs. Freshville ? Very far indeed. I once went 
to Brighton. 

PAUL. 

Oh, / went to Paris ! 

CHANTER. 

I know you did ; so you can feel for me ! (Going up.) 
Keep her quiet ! 

PAUL. 
Where are you going ? ^ 



ACT SECOND 331 

CHANTER, with wild gestures. 

Away — away ! 

PAUL. 

Who then will keep me quiet ? 

CHANTER. 
You mustn't be quiet ; you must act ! 

PAUL, staring, wondering. 

Act? 

CHANTER. 

Save me ! By-bye ! 

Exit Chanter rapidly to the hall. 
PAUL, alone, still blank. 

That's all very well ; but who'll save me ? (He moves about 

during the rest of his soliloquy, looking round him, wonderingly, interrogatively, 
as he sifts his situation in his mind, taking up successively and laying down 
again the different objects he mentions.) I'm in drCadful danger, I 

suppose ! I must be, for I'm face to face with every- 
thing that, for years, I've been taught to dread — have 

dreaded. Tobacco, cards, wine, (then taking up the French novel) 

women ! Here they are — all in a row ! (Looking round him.) 
The real thing — and I'm alone with them ! I'm therefore 
free, ain't I ? free as I haven't been since — Ah, when 
was it ? It seems only yesterday ; yet it seems another 

life ! (With the different objects again.) Women, winC, Cards, 
tobacco ! (As he tosses the cigar into the box again.) Temptation, 

ain't it ? Yes, it must be : what else can it be ? I'm 
tempted ! The danger's right here at last — the danger 



332 THE RETROBATE 

of the happy chance ! Well, the happy chance is just 
what I can't resist. (After a moment.) Is it, indeed ? Pray, 

tvhy can't I ? (Standing off with his hands in his pockets, looking at tlie 

different things.) Becausc I'm the slave of my passions, 
and my passions, alas, are awful ! (Taking up the flask of liquor.) 
This, for instance — this is one of my passions. (He has 

uncorked the flask; he smells it.) Do I ycam for it ? Somchow 

I don't feel as if I did ! Could I even raise it to my 
lips ? (After an instant.) What's the matter with me that I 

can't? (Still with the flask in his hand.) I'm wiclced I'm 

weak — I can't be trusted ; and yet my funny fate takes 
it into her head to trust me ! She treats me all of a 
sudden with flattering confidence. (Thinking.) It may 
be a trap of my funny fate. But if it's a trap, I ain't 

caught ! I am resisting ; I have resisted. (Following up 
his induction.) I ain't SO bad, then, now ; I must be getting 

better ! (Still standing with the uncorked flask in his hand, he sees Pitt 
Brunt. Re-enter Pitt Brunt from the library; to whom, as the idea last 
uttered comes over him, he breaks out spontaneously, joyously, artlessly.) I 

say, Brunt, I'm getting better ! 



Pitt Brunt, with his pen stuck into his ear, surprised at the image Paui 
presents with his uncorked flask, approaches him as if supposing him intoxi- 
cated. He takes the flask from him' and smells it; then, in horror at ^l^ 
contents, replaces it in his hand, looking at him with high superiority. 



PITT BRUNT. 
On brandy ? (He crosses to the lower door on the right, where he pauses 
an instant and gives Paul another look of shocked reprobation.) Out of 

the very bottles ? 

Exit Pitt Brunt by the lower door on the right. 



ACT SECOND 333 

PAUL, alone, stares, reflects a moment, then corks and puts down his flask 
with a sigh of resignation, taking up mechanically the French novel. 

I No one will ever believe it ! 

Re-enter Blanche Amber from the library. 
BLANCHE, at the door. 

Are you still alone ? 

PAUL. 

More alone than ever. 

BLANCHE. 

Then I'll come in. 

PAUL. 

Do ; he won't mind ! 

BLANCHE. 

Do you mean the member for Blackport ? 

PAUL. 
Oh no, woi your keeper. Mine ! 

BLANCHE. 
Mine has left me too ; gone to my uncle for an idea. 

PAUL. 

Couldn't you give him one ? 

BLANCHE. 

I gave him twenty, but he was afraid of them all. 

PAUL, smiling. 

I fancy you've some terrible ideas; eh, Miss Amber? 



334 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Not SO bad as some of yours, Mr. Paul ! 

PAUL. 
Oil, you exaggerate mine ! 

BLANCHE. 

Scarcely, when you've confessed to so many ! 

PAUL, embarrassed. 

Yes, I've made a clean breast ! 

BLANCHE. 

Don't dissimulate, then : keep it up ! 

PAUL, vague. 

Keep it up ? 

BLANCHE. 

Your honourable frankness. Your desperate candour. 

PAUL. 

It does win me your sympathy ? 

BLANCHE. 

As nothing else could ! 

PAUL, after an instant, resolute. 

Then I 7vill kee]) it up. 

BLANCHE. 

There's plenty of it, whenever you require it. 



ACT SECOND 335 

PAUL. 

I should like to take it all, and keep it for ever ! 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

Take it in instalments — a dose every day. 

PAUL. 

Then such a person as me isn't repulsive to you ? 

BLANCHE. 

Repulsive — in your lonely grandeur ? 

PAUL. 

Oh, Miss Amber, I'm lonely, but I'm not particularly 
grand ! I'm a kind of moral leper, with a warning cow- 
bell round my neck. It's the solitude of misfortune. 

BLANCHE. 

It's better than the rush and crush of vulgar happiness. 
Do you know what you remind me of? 

PAUL. 

Of any victim of fatality, I suppose— any freak of nature 
or melancholy monster : the pig-faced lady or the pie- 
bald man ! 

BLANCHE. 

You remind me of some great wide-winged, wounded 
bird ! 

PAUL. 

Do you feel like the sportsman who has brought him 
down ? Do you want to keep me as a trophy ? 



336 THE RETROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Stuffed — in a glass case? No, I want you living; 
want you fluttering ; I want you perched on your rock, 
at least, if you must be tied to it ! 



1 



PAUL. 

Dear Miss Amber, I'll perch anywhere, if you'll perchi 
near me ! I hope you've come here to stay. 

BLANCHE. 
I'll stay as long as you hold out. But I said to you a 
while ago that I would tell you what to do in case at 
last you can't. 

PAUL. 

I can scarcely hold out now. 

BLANCHE. 

Then give in ! 

PAUL, agitated. 

Give in ? 

BLANCHE. 

If you must slip up — 

PAUL, as she hesitates. 

If I must ? 

BLANCHE. 
Do it immensely! (Then as for the first time she' becomes conscious of 

the book in his hand.) But it sccms to nic you Jiavc slipped up ! 



ACT SECOND 337 

PAUL, who has put the book quickly behind him. 

Immensely ! 

BLANCHE. 

Zola ? 

PAUL, producing the book. 

Zola! 

BLANCHE, compassionate 

Your Mentor failed you — and you fell ? 

PAUL. 

To where you find me ! 

BLANCHE. 

In an hour ? 

PAUL. 

In a minute ! 

BLANCHE, who has taken the book from him an instant, giving it back. 

Even to that ? 

PAUL, flinging it down. 

Even to that ! 

BLANCHE, looking round her and seeing the flask, which she takes up. 

And to this ? 

PAUL. 

To that too. 

BLANCHE, with the pack of cards. 

And to this ? 

VOL. II Z 



Also to that ! 

And to this ? 
To everything ! 



THE REPROBATE 
PAUL. 

BLANCHE, with a cigar. 
PAUL. 



BLANCHE, with exultation. 

There's something magnificent in it ! 

PAUL, seeing Mrs. Doubleday, who has appeared at the entrance from the hall. 

If you could only make Mamma think so ! 

Re-enter Mrs. Doubledav with several sealed and directed letters. 

MR.S. DOUBLEDAY, sniffing the air as she comes down. 
Tobacco ? (To Blanche, as she tosses down her cigar.) Are yOU 

smoking with him ? 

BLANCHE, deciding and indicating the flask after an instant during which 
Mrs. Doubleday peremptorily rings the bell. 

Yes and drinking ! (Then indicating each of the other objects.) 

And gambling ! And reading a dreadful book. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, seeing the name as Blanche waves the book. 

Zola? 

BLANCHE. 

Zola! 

PAUL. 

Dear mamma — it's Miss Amber's German humour 
She has but this moment come into the room ! 



I 



1 



ACT SECOND 339 

BLANCHE. 

To take the place of Captain Chanter. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, looking from one of them to the other. 

Where is Captain Chanter ? 

PAUL, privately to Blanche. 

Don't tell her ! 

BLANCHE. 

Then you tell her ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, to Paul; formidable. 

Does he neglect you ? 

PAUL, alert. 

Dear no, I shouldn't call it neglect ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Then why isn't he here ? 

Re-enter Cubit from the hall. 

CUBIT. 
Did you ring, ma'am ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Stamp these letters. 

PAUL, privately to Blanche, while Cubit takes the letters from Mrs. 

DoUBLEDAY. 



She'll repudiate him ! 



340 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
It will serve him right. 

PAUL. 

It will serve vie wrong ! (To himself.) I'll save him ! 

(Then as Mrs. Doubleday turns to him again for an answer while Cubit 
stampslettersat one of the tables.) I tUmed the Captain OUt ! 

BLANCHE, to herself. 

You darling ! 

PAUL. 

I got so bad — he fled in horror ! 



MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He couldn't stand you ? 

PAUL. 

He couldn't stand me ! 

Re-enter Mr. BoNSOR by the lower door on the right, while Blanche goes 
up in agitation. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, dismayed, to Mr. BoNSOR. 

He couldn't stand him ! 

MR. BONSOR, dismayed. 

The Captain ? 

MRS. DOUBLED.W. 

He fled in horror ! 

PAUL, ecstatic. 

And I've had at last an hour of freedom ! 



k 



ACT SECOND 341 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, showing Mr. Bonsor all the dreadful signs. 

An hour of freedom ! 

BLANCHE, coming round and down on the right to Paul. 
You're simply sublime ! (She goes up again.) 

PAUL, to himself. 

I'm saving him ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, to Cubit. 

Have you seen Captain Chanter ? 

CUBIT, with his letters stamped. 

I think he left the house, ma'am. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, excited. 

Then pursue him. (imperious, as Cubit stands.) Look for him ! 

CUBIT, at a loss. 

Where, ma'am, shall I look ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, frantic, hurrying up. 

/'// look ! 

E.xit Mrs. DouBLEDAY to the hall. 
MR. BONSOR, to Cubit, who is going. 

Whose letters are those ? 

CUBIT. 

Mrs. Doubleday's, sir. 



342 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR, austere. 

Don't post them. They are to announce a marriage T 
which will probably not take place. 



PAUL, at tlie left, privately, with decision, to Blanxhe, who has come down 
again on his left. 

It shall take place ! (He surreptitiously catches her right hand with 
his left and gives it a shake which she surreptitiously returns — a movement 
perceived by Mr. Bonsor.) 

MR. BONSOR, going up. 

Blanche ! 

She quickly joins him, and, after a few words, when they have gone up, he 
appears to dismiss her disapprovingly. Exit Blanche to the hall. 

PAUL, while this takes place. 
Cubit ! (Then, as Cubit, with the letters, comes to him.) PoSt them ! 



CUBIT. 

But Mr. Bonsor — 

PAUL. 

Hang Mr. Bonsor ! 

CUBIT, astounded ; then, with a gesture, smiling ar.d taking another line. 

What'U you give me ? 

PAUL. 
For hanging Mr. Bonsor ? (Taking from his waistcoat-pocket the 
money Chanter has given him.) ThlS ! 

CUBIT, with the money. 

Five shillings ? (Delighted.) I'll post them ! 

E.xit Cubit to the hall. 



i 



ACT SECOND 343 

MR. BONSOR, stern, coming down to Paul. 

Are you intoxicated ? 

PAUL, with an exhilaration, a familiarity, wholly new to Mr. Bonsor. 

Dear Mr. Bonsor, I never was so lucid in all the whole 
course of my existence ! 

MR. BONSOR, struck, and with his suspicions confirmed by Paul's manner 
and tone, seeing Pitt Brunt : re-enter Pitt Brunt by lower door on 

the right. 

He's simply dead drunk ! 

PITT BRUNT 

I'm perfectly aware ! I rejoin Miss Amber. 

MR. BONSOR, indicating the hall. 

She's in the morning-room. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Shall I apprise her? 

MR. BONSOR, complacent. 

S/ie's perfectly aware. 

Exit Pitt Brunt to the hall. Re-enter Captain Chanter from the lawn. 
MR. BONSOR, eager, to Chanter. 

Do you know he's dead drunk ? 

CHANTER, coming down with his hat on — a little on the back of his head. 

Intimately ! 



j44 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
You couldn't stand him ? 

PAUL, at whom Chanter has looked ; privately. 

I told them you couldn't ! 

CHANTER, with assurance 

I couldn't Stand him ! 

MR. BONSOR, heroical. 

Well, / can ! 

CHANTER. 

But I've pulled myself together again. 1 can now. 

MR. BONSOR. 

It's a very dreadful sight. 

CHANTER. 

To the pure all things are pure ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Then they're pure to vie ! I'll take him myself. 

CHANTER, uneasy, protesting. 

Ah no — I've my rules to enforce ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

You told me I must rest. You must. 

CHANTER. 

I have rested ! 



ACT SECOND 345 

MR. BONSOR, looking at Paul a moment, then reconsidering, deciding. 

I'll take him when he has slept it off! 

E.\it Mr. BoNSOR to the hall. 
CHANTER, eager, hopeful, to Paul. 

Are you dead drunk ? 

PAUL. 

Yes — with the sense of freedom ! 

CHANTER. 

That'll do — if you'll save me ! 

PAUL. 

I am saving you ! 

CHANTER. 

Now's your time, then — she's coming back ! 

PAUL, visibly disconcerted. 

Nina ? 

CHANTER. 

I saw her on the bridge — she followed me. (Seeing Mrs. 
Fkeshville at the window.) Here she is ! 

Exit Chanter rapidly to the library. Re-enter Mrs. Freshville from 
the garden. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Was that the Captain who left you ? 

PAUL. 

Yes — do you want him ? 



346 THE REPROBATE 



MRS. FRESHVILLK, with resolution. 

No ! (After an instant.) That's vvhat I'vo coHie back to 
tell you ! 

PAUL, civil, but vague. 

Very good of you to come back ! 



to 

i 



MRS. FRESIIVILT.E, with sudden intensity. 

Dudley — my feelings dragged me ! I don't want any 
one in the world if I can only get jou / 

PAUL, confused. 

Me, Nina? ^ 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

My earliest friend — my most generous — and my best ! 

PAUL, embarra.ssed. 

My dear Nina, do I understand that you desire to make 
me your husband ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That's the description of you that I confess I should 
find it most convenient to be able to give. 

PAUL. 

But isn't your proposal rather rashly precipitate ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Precipitate — when for years I've loved you in silence ? 
That silence, when I see you, I naturally break ! 



ACT SECOND 347 

PAUL. 

But I thought the object of your affection was our 
whimsical friend the Captain. 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

So did I, till I perceived that I was fundamentally mis- 
taken. The Captain, though whimsical, is attractive ; 
but he has no heart. You have a heart, Dudley. 

PAUL. 

Ah, but it doesn't make me attractive ! Nothing can ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Your situation can — your situation docs. You suffer. 

PAUL. 

Oh, I can bear it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I can't then — when you're a captive ! 

PAUL. 

Captivity has changed me — I'm not what I was ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Never mind what you were — you'll do very well. 
You're still young — you're still charming — you're still 
free. 

PAUL. 

Free ? Why, you recognise yourself that I'm bound ! 



34^ THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESIIVILLE, suspicious, seizing his arm. 

" Bound " — to whom ? 

PAUL, after an instant. 

No one — in the way you mean ! 

MRS. FRESIIVILLE. 

Then come to Paris ! 

PAUL, moved. 

To Paris ? 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

To the Alcazar ! 

PAUL, struck, thinking. 

The Eldorado? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

The Valentino ! 

PAUL. 
The Solferino ? (After a moment.) Too latc ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, resentful. 

Too late ? It isn't too late for me to chivey your photoj 
graph about ! 

PAUL, vague. 

My photograph ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, indicating her reticule. 

In this thing — wherever I go ! (Abrupt.) Dudley, zvlio 
stole it ? 



ACT SECOND 349 

PAUL, blank. 

I haven't the least idea ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then / have ! 

PAUL. 

Who in the world ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, reconsidering. 

I'll tell you when we're married ! 

PAUL. 

Dear Nina, marriage is a serious step— a step to think 
well over. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

We'll think it well over — together ! 

PAUL. 
Give me more time, Nina ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

How much more do you want ? 

PAUL, after an instant. 

Why, say till to-morrow. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then to-morrow I'll rush to you. 

PAUL. 

Thank you — I'll rush tojw/. 



350 THE RETROBATE 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

At the inn? Will they let you ? 

PAUL, after reflection, with extreme resolution. 

I won't ask them ! 

MRS. FRESIIVILLE, irrepressible, triumpliant. ; 

Ah, I've got you ! 

PAUL, struck, wondering. 

Have you, Nina ? 

MR.S. FRESHVILLE, with a laugh. 

Don't look at me as if I had said I'd got the measles ! 
Look at me as if you really remembered — 

PAUL, as she hesitates. /j^H 

Remembered, Nina? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

That I'm a dear good soul. 

PAUL. 

You are, Nina. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And that I give you a radical change. 

PAUL. 

You do, Nina. By-bye. 



ACT SECOND 351 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 
By-bye. (She goes up and then comes down again, while he stands lost 
in thought.) Just look here, Dud. (Then after an instant.) Why 

arrangements ? 

PAUL, vague.' 

Arrangements ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

What you call preHminaries. Fly with me without 'em ! 
The preliminaries can follow. 

PAUL, vague. 

Do you allude to our luggage ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, laughing. 
You are a daisy ! Let me pluck you now ! 

PAUL, rueful, unready. 

This moment ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You shrink — you desire some regular form ? 

PAUL. 

I've been taught in all these years that some regular 
form is proper. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then we'll have one — iox you ! And we'll see about it 

to-morrow. (At the window, smiling, bantering.) Propriety ! 

Exit Mrs. FRESHVILLE to the lawn. 



J 



352 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, as he sees Chanter. 

Poor old Nina ! 

Re-enter Captain Chanter from the library. 

CHANTER, who has looked in first cautiously and speaks in a loud, 
eager whisper. 

Well ? 

PAUL. 

She wants me to go to Paris ! 

CHANTER. 

Then why the deuce doti't you ? 

PAUL. 
Because I don't want to ! 

CHANTER, blank, vexed. 

Don't " want " to ? 

PAUL, excited. 

Not the least bit in the world ! 

CHANTER. 

Then you otight to want to ! 

PAUL. 

Isn't that just my difficulty — that I don't do what I 
ought ? 

CHANTER. 

I'm here to make you. You're free ! 



ACT SECOND 353 

PAUL, passing his hand over his head. 

That's just where it is ! — I'm free ! She wants me to 
fly with her. 

CHANTER. 

Don't stand pottering, then. Fly ! 

PAUL. 
I can't fly ! 

CHANTER, trying to push him off. 

You must ! 

PAUL, disengaging himself with a flare of passion, and coming round and down. 

I won't ! 

CHANTER. 

What the devil's the matter with you ? 

PAUL. 

I don't know, Captain ! I ain't so bad — I ain't tempted ! 

CHANTER, indignant. 

You are tempted ! 

PAUL. 

Then I resist ! 

CHANTER, furious. 

Wretch ! 

Re-enter Cudit from the hall. 
CUBIT, to Chanter. 

Mrs. Doubleday's quite wild, sir. 

VOL. II 2 A 



354 THE REPROBATE 

CHANTER. 
I go to her. (To Paul, privately, with concentrated urgency, as 

goes up.) Nina's a revelation ! Try her ! 

Exit Captain Chanter to the hall.' 



1 



J 



CUBIT, to Paul. 

Letters gone, sir ! 

PAUL, with rising spirit. 

Well, I ain't, old man, am I ? 

CUBIT, surprised, gratified. 

No indeed, sir ; you seem quite on the spot ! 

Exit Cubit to the hall. 

PAUL, alone, echoing, with the sense of his victory growing stronger, over- 
whelming him at last. 

" Nina's a revelation"? There are other revelations than 
Nina ! " Try her " ? I don't zvaiit to try her ! I don't 
want to try anybody ! (Looking about him.) I don't want to 

do anything ! (Drops into the chair on the right of the table.) What 

is the matter with me ? I am free and I ain't bad ! 

Upon my honour (rising slowly with the force of the revelation and 

the surprise) I belicve that, after all — it's awfully queer 

(pauses a moment, then drops back into the chair) UpOU my hoUOUr, 

I'm good / 



ACT THIRD 

Mr Bonsor's drawing-room. Blanche Amber comes in from the 
hall, meeting Pitt Brunt, dressed in the same manner as at the 
beginning of Act First, who comes in from the garden. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Dear Miss Amber, I'm delighted to put in a few minutes 
with you — my soUtude, since luncheon, has been posi- 
tively uncanny. 

BLANCHE. 

Haven't you had my uncle to comfort you ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

There's no comfort in your uncle, now that Mr. 
Doubleday has disappeared ! 

BLANCHE. 

Isn't there any in Mrs. Doubleday — exhilarated by the 
triumph of her charms ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

She buries her charms at the railway-station — waiting 
for the fugitive to alight ! 



356 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, disappointed. 

You don't mean to say he returns so soon ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

I don't know, dear Miss Amber, what you call " soon." 
(Looking at his watch.) A debauch of twenty hours ! 

BLANCHE. 

Why, he went for at least sixty ! 

PITT BRUNT, surprised. 

Did he communicate to you his programme ? 

BLANCHE. 

It was impossible — yesterday afternoon — to remain 
.gnorant of his condition. 

PITT BRUNT. 

Indeed it was ! 

BLANCHE. 

When he was missed — I understood. I know that 
when such natures fall — 

PITT BRUNT. 

They fall to the very bottom ? I've no doubt whatever 
that he's as far down as you can go. Fortunately 
Captain Chanter has been let down after him. 

BLANCHE. 

By a rope round the waist— to pull him out? I per- 
fectly know for what purpose he followed Mr. Paul to 
London. 



ACT THIRD 357 

PITT BRUNT. 

The engagement he had conscientiously taken left him 
no alternative, and he surmounted the repugnance he 
naturally felt. When he brings the culprit back we 
shall clear up the mystery of where the money came 
from — the money for Doubleday's fare. 

BLANCHE. 

By the train to town ? It was only two shillings. 

PITT BRUNT. 

He had no such amount in his possession. We are 
reluctantly driven to the belief that he stole the two 
shillings. 

BLANCHE, indignant. 

Your belief's a false belief ! He didn't ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

To say nothing of the money for the other excesses that 
were his objective. You admitted just now that such 
natures sink to the bottom. Well, the bottom is theft ! 

BLANCHE. 

Then he stopped half-way. He borrowed the money. 

PITT BRUNT. 

From whom, pray — since the very servants have been 

examined? (Then as she remains silent.) Will yOUaCCOUipany 

me on the river ? I put in an hour each day, and my 
hour has come round. 



358 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 

Your hour may have come round, Mr. Brunt, but your 
humble servant hasn't. You don't take the right way to 
make her ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

riltake it in the boat. (Confident, engaging.) You see if I 
don't ! 

BLANCHE, impatient. 

Ah, your boat's not my boat, and it's impossible for me 
to embark with you ! 

PITT BRUNT, more pressing. 

I want you to embark, you know, on the river of life ; 
to float with me down the crystal stream — 

BLANCHE. 

That flows into the Smutt at Blackport ? I don't find 
that a tempting voyage ! 

PITT BRUNT, as Mr. Bonsor appears. 

Only give me a chance to point you out the beauties ! 

Enter Mr. Bonsor from the hall. 
MR. BONSOR, encouraging. 

Ah, you're pointing out to Miss Amber the beauties ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Even as you have pointed them out to 7ne ! 



ACT THIRD 359 

BLANCHE, at the door of the library ; with a curtsey. 

I must leave you to discuss them together ! 

Exit Blanche Amber. 
PITT BRUNT. 

She won't come out with me in the boat. 

MR. BONSOR. 
The best place to command her attention, as I instructed 
you. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I seek in vain, Mr. Bonsor, to command her attention 
or to carry out your instructions. 

MR. BONSOR. 

They seem indeed, in the light of the present crisis, to 

have been singularly futile ! (Then seeing Cubit with a telegram.) 

I tremble at every telegram ! 

Enter Cubit from the hall. 
CUBIT, as Mr. Bonsor takes the telegram from his tray. 

The ninth, sir ! 

MR. BONSOR, opening the telegram. 

The Captain reports to us from hour to hour his alter- 
nations of confidence and despair. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I hope this time it's confidence. 

MR. BONSOR, who has read. 

Despair ! 



36o THE REPROBATE 

CUBIT, as Mrs. Doubleday appears ; announcing. 
Mrs. Uoubleday ! (Enter Mrs. Doubleday, in her bonnet, from the 

garden.) Dcspair, ma'am ! 



E.vit Cubit to the hall 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY, agitated. 



Despair ? 

MR. BONSOR, reading. 

" Last hope dashed — evidently sunk to bottom." 

PITT BRUNT. 

Sunk to bottom ! That's what Miss Amber says. 

MR. BONSOR, struck. 
She admits it — she expresses it ? Then follow that up ! 

PITT BRUNT. 
In the library ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
In the boat. 

PITT BRUNT, 

But if she won't enter the boat ? 

MR. BONSOR, after an instant. 

I'll see her on board. 

PITT BRUNT, at the door of the librao". 

I'll detain her till you're free. 

E.xit Pitt Brunt. 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Do you propose to carry her on board ? 



i 



ACT THIRD 361 

MR. BONSOR. 

It may come to that ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, injured. 

You might take a httle less interest in Miss Amber's 
marriage — ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

And a Uttle more interest in yours? I consider that 
you should make a condition. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, vague. 

For the retention of my hand ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
The success of the Captain's pursuit. He must bring 
Paul back. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

But if Paul has sunk lower than any sounding? 

MR. BONSOR. 
The Captain requires the equipment of a diver ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, decided. 

We'll have no more diving : he must come back without 
him ! Paul will have dropped to his natural level. 

MR. BONSOR. 

You allude to the supposed companion of his orgy ? 
That she is his companion is after all but an hypothesis. 



362 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

An hypothesis for which the evidence is crushing. It 
was the ground for the Captain's action — an action 
admirably prompt. 

MR. BONSOR. 
Oh yes, when the horse was stolen ! 



I 



MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

If the horse is stolen, there are consolations. For 
really, to receive Paul — 

MR. BONSOR, as she falters. 

From the arms of such a creature ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Would cost me more than I can say ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
I would protect you by receiving him first — I would 
pump him dry. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I should feel as if he would never be dry ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

We should have doubtless more than ever, in our 
intercourse with him, to make use of the moral 
mackintosh. 

MRS. DOUDLEDAY. 

I impressed upon Captain Chanter from the first the 
necessity of such a garment. 



ACT THIRD 363 

MR. BONSOR. 

However, since he has muffed his catch — 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with asperity. 

Why the dickens doesn't he come back ? (Up at the long 
window.) I'll wire that question ! 

Exit Mrs. DOUBLEDAY. 

MR. BONSOR, alone, surprised. 
Not, I hope, in those words ! (Then as he sees Blanche : re-enter 
Blanche Amber from the library.) Mr. Brunt's gOHC withoUt yOU? 

BLANCHE. 

No, dear uncle ; he's in there. 

MR. BONSOR. 

And what's he doing ? 

BLANCHE. 

When I left him he was making a speech. 

MR. BONSOR, struck ; at the door of the library. 

On what subject ? 

BLANCHE. 

Try to make out ! 

MR. BONSOR, as he listens, with his eyes on Blanche and an admonitory 
motion. 

Hear, hear ! 

Exit rapidly Mr. Bonsor. 



364 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, joyous, as she sees Paul. 

Ah, what a blessed change ! 

Enter Paul Doubleday from the hall ; with a complete transformation of 
appearance, expression, demeanour. He is bright, confulent, assured, and 
dressed in the height of the fashion ; with flowers in his buttonhole, his 
moustache bravely curled, his high hat, of a striking shape, gallantly worn. 
He carries in his hand a magnificent bouquet, and is followed by Cubit, 
who bears an armful of parcels. 

PAUL, in high spirits. 1 

Dispose them on tlie table, Cubit, and treat them with 
respect — they're the spoils of a great campaign ! 



CUBIT. 

And what shall I give the cabman ? 

PAUL. 
Give him my blessing ! 

CUBIT. 

I'm afraid he won't go for that, sir. 

PAUL. 
If he won't go he can stay ! 

CUBIT, scandalised. 

At half-a-crown an hour ? 

PAUL. 
1 Stayed for less, Cubit — all those years. 

CUBIT, deprecating. 

Oh you, Mr. Paul— ! 



4 



ACT THIRD 365 

PAUL. 
Well, I wasn't such a fool as we thought ! 

BLANCHE, who has produced her portemonnaie ; giving Cubit a coin. 

Dismiss the cab. 

CUBIT, with the money. 

And bring back the change ? 

BLANCHE. 

Keep the change. 

CUBIT, to himself. 

Seven-and-six ! 

Exit Cubit to the hall. 
PAUL, who has dashed at Blanche to kiss her hand. 

Has my absence excited remark ? 

BLANCHE. 

It has been the only subject of our conversation. 

PAUL. 

Have you mentioned, in the course of that conversation, 
the motive of my little break ? 

BLANCHE, smiling. 

How can I have mentioned it when I haven't known it ? 

PAUL, surprised. 

Didn't I make it clear — ? 



366 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
When I rejoined you in the garden — after your fall ? 

PAUL, oblivious. 

My fall ? 

BLANCHE. 

Why, to the old wild life. 

PAUL, prompt, perfunctory. 

Oh yes, the old wild life ! 

BLANCHE. 

I don't strike a man when he's down. 

PAUL. 
Certainly, I forgot I'm down! (Offering his bouquet ; smiling.) 

And I gathered on my way down this handful of flowers. 

BLANCHE, with the bouquet. 

Flowers as wild as yourself? — flowers of folly, flowers 
of passion ? (inhaling their odour.) They're sweet — but 
ought I to say so ? 

PAUL. 

Why not ? — I got them in Baker Street. (Then as Blanche 
looks disconcerted.) A jolly good shop — with an awfuUy 
pretty girl. 

BLANCHE, more reassured ; after an instant. 

Perhaps you had better not tell me about people of 
that sort. I don't wish to draw you out. 



ACT THIRD 367 

PAUL. 
I see. (Then after an instant.) But pcrhaps you think I'm 
worse than I am ! 

BLANCHE. 

Not worse than you were when you let everything go. 

PAUL. 

When — and where — did I let anything go ? 

BLANCHE. 

Why, yesterday afternoon, in the garden, as I say, when 
you finally told me you must get off by yourself. 

PAUL. 

For the first time for such an age ? 

BLANCHE. 

You declared you must go up to town. 

PAUL. 

Precisely, for a little change. 

BLANCHE. 

You disguised your necessity under a singular expression. 

PAUL. 

I said I must take a look round ? — Well, I took a look. 

BLANCHE, prompt. 

Oh, you needn't tell me what you've seen ! 



36S THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, bringing a parcel from the table. 

I saw some bonbons in Bond Street — and brought you 

a box. 

BLANCHE, with the box. 

Was there a pretty girl in that shop too ? 

PAUL, laughing. 
Oh yes, two or tliree ! (Then showing a small parcel.) I got 

something else, you see — as a present to Mamma. 

BLANCHE. 

Well, you've certainly made the money fly ! 

PAUL. 

All over the place ! Why shouldn't I — hang it ! — if I 
happen to feel flush ? 

BLANCHE, struck. 

Isn't tliat the old wild tone ? 

PAUL. 

I daresay it is, the devil take it ! 

BLANCHE, alert. 

There it is again ! 

PAUL. 

It seems as if it had come to stay, doesn't it ? 

i 

BLANCHE. * 

We mustn't let it stay any longer than it positively must. 
Remember that I'm fighting on your side. - 



ACT THIRD 369 

PAUL, laughing. 

Dear Miss Amber, you're even more adorable, upon my 
word, than when you first took service under my flag ! 

BLANCHE. 

You mustn't say such things to me till you've recovered. 

PAUL. 

That I've recovered is precisely what's the matter with 
me ! 

BLANCHE, vague. 

Do you mean from the effects of yesterday ? 

PAUL. 

I mean from the effects of these ten years. (Reckless.) 
My dear girl, confound it, you know, I'm all right ! 

BLANCHE, disappointed. 

Already ? 

PAUL. 

Surely it has taken long enough. 

BLANCHE. 

Not long enough for me. (After an instant.) I don't care 
for saints ! There's one at me already. 

PAUL. 

The member for Blackport ? (Prompt.) Oh, I'm not so 
good as he ! 

BLANCHE. 

If you were you'd be too awful. 

VOL, II 2 B 



370 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
But I'm as good as — as good as — 

BLANCHE, challenging, while he considers 

As good as who ? 

PAUL. 

\Vell, as good as most men ! 

BLANCHE, disgusted. 

That's far too good ! 

PAUL, trjing again. 

Then I'm as good as Captain Chanter. 

BLANCHE. 

I don't beheve it ! Captain Chanter's far too good. 
(Then after an instant.) If you're SO tremcndously virtuous, 
and you happen to feel flush, please repay me — 

PAUL. 

The money you so kindly lent me ? It was a return- 
ticket. I could neither have started nor come back 
without the pecuniary assistance you were so good as to 
render my distress ; but I'm sorry to say that distress 
remains very much what it was. 

BLANCHE. 

Then how can you have felt flush ? 



ACT THIRD 371 

PAUL. 
By the purchase of hats and co'ats and trousers. Ready 
made — I told them to put them down. 

BLANCHE, vague. 

Down to me ? 

PAUL. 
Down to Mamma. (indicating the other objects.) Put doWH 

everything. 

BLANCHE, exultant. 

Then you're gloriously in debt ! And your mother 
won't pay. 

PAUL, decided. 

She'll hai'e to ! 

BLANCHE, decided. 

She shan't ! 

PAUL, blank. 

Then who will ? 

BLANCHE, after an instant. 

What if / should ? 

PAUL, gazing at her with surprise and emotion, then bounding to her, seizing 
her hand, and raising it again to his lips. 

Angel ! 

Re-enter Mrs. Doubleday from the garden. 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY, arrested, amazed. 

Paul! 



372 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, with undisturbed self-possession and good-humour. 

I was saluting, Miss Amber in the joy of my return. 
Permit me, under the influence of the same emotion, to 
extend to you, dear Mamma (approaching her with open arms), an 
embrace more comprehensive. 

Re-enter Mr. Bonsor from the library. 

MR. BONSOR, arrested, amazed, while Mrs. Doubleday bewildcrcdly 

submits. 

Mrs. Doubleday ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, confounded, but bridling and indicating Blanche. 

I found him kissing her ! 

MR. BONSOR, aghast, as Pitt Brunt reappears. 

Her? 

Re-enter Pitt Brunt from the library. 
PITT BRUNT, echoing, indignant. 

Her? 

BLANCHE, exalted, audacious, passing in front of Pitt Brunt on her 
way up left. 

Her ivhatl Her finger-tips ! 

PAUL, to Pitt Brunt, laughing. 

Aren't even the finger-tips more than ever you've got 
at ? — How d'ye do, Mr. Bonsor ? Noticed my little 
break ? — remarked my lucid interval ? (Then as the others 

e.\change expressions of stupefaction.) 1 )eplored it, thcu, bewailed 

it, felt it in the seat of sensibility ? Very charming of 
you all ! 



ACT THIRD 373 

MR. BONSOR. 
If you designate by those extraordinary terms your un- 
accountable absence, I have only to observe that, though 
it has been briefer than we apprehended, we've been 
amply occupied in considering the questions with which 
we should find ourselves confronted on its coming to an 
end. 

MRS, DOUBLEDAY. 

If it should come to an end ! 

PAUL, surprised, amused. 

If it should 1 Why, what did you think I was in for? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

We didn't permit ourselves to name it ! 

;MR. BONSOR. 

You mean not to each other. 

PITT BRUNT. 
Only to hint it to a third person. 

BLANCHE, who has come down smiling, on the right. 

And yet draw the line at a fourth ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

That line, Blanche, is not yet effaced. 

PAUL, to Mrs. DoUBLEDAY. 

Did you miss the usual forms of separation ? You see 

I had to pop off. (Then as they are again visiblj' startled.) To 



374 THE REPROBATE 

catch the 4.40 — the particular train I wanted ! I ;-(?- 
quired those hours in town, don't you know? — there 
were things I had imperatively to do. But I put on a 
spurt — I managed to rush them through ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

You speak as if they had been odious necessities ! 

PAUL. 

There's no doubt, Mr. Bonsor, they were necessities, 
and distinctly urgent ones ; but, urgent as they were, it 
would indeed be wide of the mark to call them in the 
least odious. In fact the whole thing was a treat ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Paul ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
Blanche ! Please leave the room. (To Pitt Bru.nt.) He 
has really reached a point — 

PITT BRUNT. 
That embarrasses even me. (Opening the lower door on the right 

for Blanche.) Your retreat. 

PAUL, opening for her with a laugh the door of the library. 

Spare my blushes ! 

BLANCHE, between the doors a moment, then at Paul's, giving him a brush 
in the face with her bouquet. 

Reprobate ! 

E.\it Rlanchf. Amber to the library. 



ACT THIRD 375 

PAUL. 
You see it was the first time for years, and there wasn't 
a single moment of it that hadn't its appreciable 

CJUality ! (Then while Mrs. Doubleday and Mr. Bonsor indulge in mani- 
festations of increasing dismay.) Whatever dcHghts the future 
may hold for me, I feel I never shall forget the rapture 
of those hours. Everything, in such a case, conspires 
to intensify the bliss : it's the sort of thing that, as I 
may say, don't you know ? one makes for ever one's own ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

Mrs. Doubleday, shall I face it alone ? 

PITT BRUNT, springing to the lower door on the right, which he holds 
open for her. 

While you step in here ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I think I shall suffer less if you step in there. (To Mr. 
Bonsor.) Tell him to leave us. 

PITT BRUNT, disconcerted. 

Then I'll mingle my innocence with Miss Amber's. 

PAUL, checking him with a gesture as he crosses to the library. 

My dear fellow, I wish to mingle mine ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

After this extraordinary exhibition of your having none ? 



376 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, arrested, chagrined. 

Ah yes — for her ! (To Pitt Brunt.) What I mean is, don't 
you know ? that I aspire to her myself. 



PITT BRUNT, to Mr. Bonsor. 

I beheve he's still drunk ! 



i 



PAUL, at the lower door on the right, which he holds open for Pitt Brunt. 

In vifio Veritas — when I'm drunk I'm pressing ! 

PITT BRUNT, crossing at last to the door, where he stands again an 
instant with his eyes on Paul. 

Reprobate ! 

Exit Pitt Brunt. 
PAUL. 

And where, all this while, is the dear old Captain ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with high significance. I 

That's what I should like particularly to know ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

He has not returned from London. 

PAUL, surprised. 

What's he doing in London ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I wish you would find out ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
He went up to track you. 



ACT THIRD 377 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

But he has given you up. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Prematurely, we can't but think. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

He reports that you've disappeared. 

MR. BONSOR. 
For ever — with a female. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The same female. 

PAUL. 

The old female — Nina ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, alert. 

Is she old, Dudley ? 

PAUL. 

Dear me, yes — about your age. And she's here. 

MR. BONSOR. 
You brought her back ? 

PAUL. 

I didn't take her ! 

MR. BONSOR. 
And she didn't take you ? 



37S 



THE REPROBATE 



PAUL, with a gesture of repudiation ; almost wounded. 

How could she ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with deepening unc.isiness. 

Then what's she here for ? 

PAUL, bethinking himself. 

Perhaps after all she has gone. 

MRS. D0UBL1':DAY. 

Perhaps after all she hasn't ! You'll be so good as to 
find out. 

AIR. BONSOR, astonished. 

You wish to throw them together ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I wish to keep them apart ! 

PALTL, vague. 

Of whom, iSIamma, do you speak ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I speak of Captain Chanter ! 

PAUL, after an instant ; diplomatic. 

There's plenty of time. — He reports that I've vanished ? 



MR. BONSOR. 
He wires that you're practically extinct. 



ACT THIRD 379 

PAUL. 

Does he take me for a species — or for a volcano ? In 
the latter case I'm in lively eruption ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, suspicious. 

Why hasn't he mentioned the position of the second 
crater ? 

PAUL. 

The lady to whom we just alluded ? — The second crater's 

temporarily quiet. (At llie table on which he caused his parcels to be 

deposited.) Such a pity the Captain's away — I've brought 
him a charming present : a couple of French novels — 
the last things out. 

MR.S. DOUBLEDAY. 

And pray where have you picked up such insidious 
productions ? 

PAUL. 

In Leicester Square — such a funny little shop. 

MR. BONSOR. 
The contents of which you also appropriated — ■ 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, as he hesitates. 

When the proprietor didn't happen to be looking ! - 

PAUL, staring ; then laughing. 
You mean I bagged them ? (with two other mementoes from the 

table.) Yes, and I prigged something for each of you ! 



38o THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with her present, opening a small case. 

A massive bracelet ? 

MR. BONSOR, doing the same. 

And an expensive pin ? 

PAUL. 

So glad you like them ! I had them booked. 

MR. BONSOR. 

And how will you pay for them ? 

PAUL. 

Why, as one always pays — out of income. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, triumphant. 

You haven't got any income ! 

PAUL. 

I shall have a very good one when we settle. 

MR. BON.SOR. 

That will be ten years hence. We don't settle till 
you're forty. 

PAUL. 

My dear Mr. Bonsor, I am forty. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Since when ? You were thirty last week. 



ACT THIRD 381 

PAUL. 
So I was. But I've grown. 

MR. BONSOR. 

Ten years — in a week ? 

PAUL. 

Ten years in an hour ! I'm of age. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, aghast 

To cease to be looked after? 

PAUL. 

To begin to look after you. I am beginning — I /lave 
begun. So you'll pay me up. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The wages of sin ? 

PAUL. 
I really think the only sin is the sin of impertinence ! 
Don't you so much as thank me for the reward of yours ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Your mother will hardly go through such a form for an 
ornament she is incapable of retaining. She will take 
it back — 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, who has slipped the bracelet over her arm, where 

she has complacently regarded it ; after a little renunciatory wriggle 

at the clasp. 

As soon as I succeed in removing it. And Mr. Bonsor 
will only keep his pin — 



382 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
To stick into me when he's vicious ? I warn him that 

I've ceased to be a pin-cushion! (with an illustrated "society- 
paper," which he hands, open, to Mr. Bonsor.) There's Something 

just out ! — for the member for Blackport. 

AIR. BONSOR, with the coloured cartoon. 

" The Idol of the North "— ! 

PAUL. 
Putting in an hour ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

I'll pass it on to Blanche. 

PAUL. 

Don't do that : it's too awfully like ! (Taking from his pocket 

a small paper.) That's the figure of what I've spent. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with the paper, in dismay, to Mr. Bonsor. 

Seventy pounds ! 

PAUL. 

Nine and sevenpence. I'll trouble you for a cheque. 

MR. BONSOR, with the paper, after an instant, to Mrs. Doubleday. 

Will you write one ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, indignant, at the window. 

Never ! 

E.\it Mrs. Doubleday to the garden. 
PAUL. 



Will you ? 



ACT THIRD 383 

MR. BONSOR, at the lower door on the right. 

Never ! 

Exit Mr. BoNSOR. Enter Captain Chanter from the haU. 

PAUL. 
Hang it then, will you? 

CHANTER, aghast. 

You're not off with her, as I instructed you ? 

PAUL. 

I'm no more off than she is. I'm to call on her. 

CHANTER, frantic. 

Then by all that's desperate, call ! 

PAUL. 

There's no hurry, my dear fellow. Nina won't go ! 

CHANTER. 

She'll go \i yoiill go. You told me so yourself! 

PAUL. 

Yes, but I won't — that's what I've an appointment to 

make her understand. (Then on a wild motion of despair of 

Chanter's.) If you thouglit we had bolted, why did you 
give chase ? 

CHANTER. 

To speed you on your way — to smother your remorse. 
You promised to save me, and I've been living in the 
blind confidence that I was saved ! 



384 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
You shall be if you keep your head — if you'll do exactly 
what I tell you. In the first place, you must assist me 
with Miss Aaiber. You must not let her fmd out that 
I ain't what I thought. 

CHANTER. 

Nor what I thought, either ! I thought I could trust 
you ! 

PAUL. 

You thought I had every vice. So did I, till I was put 
to the test. You put me to it yourself — you proved me 
utterly wanting. But it's the fond belief that I'm a 
splendid Satan that's the singular source of her interest. 

CHANTER. 

That interest is quenched, then, from the moment you 
moon about here. The way to impress her is obviously 
to do something Satanic. 

PAUL. 
A good way to begin, then, will be to keep a devil of an 
eye on yon. You're indispensable to my plan. 

CHANTER. 

I operate as a diversion to Mrs. Doublcday ! 

PAUL. 

If you'll direct her activity into a different channel — 



ACT THIRD 385 

CHANTER. 

You'll also find a different one for Nina's ? What 
channel is there — 

PAUL. 

But the one from Dover to Calais? V\\ Jifid owe., if I 
have to dig it ! Leave me to do so. 

CHANTER, uneasy. 

With Nina all over the place ? 

PAUL. 

/'/// all over the place ! Do as I tell you. (Then as 

Chanter still stands reluctant ; authoritative.) Go tO yOUr rOOm • 
(Exit Captain Chanter with quick docility to the hall. Re-enter INIr. Bonsor 
by the lower door on the right.) HaVC yOU COUie tO tcll niC yOU 

zmll write the cheque ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
For half the amount — on a condition. That of your 
withdrawing your opposition — 

PAUL. 
To the Idol of the North as an active rival ? (Thinking, 
amused.) For thirty-fivc pounds ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Four and ninepence ha'penny. Permit him regular 
access — 

PAUL. 

To the young lady he bores ? Not for the money ! 

VOL. II 2 c 



386 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR, disappoinlcd. 

Then on what terms can we arrange it ? 

PAUL, up at the door to the hall as Blan'Che re-appears. 

Ask the young lady herself! 

Exit Paul Doubledav. Re-enter Blan'Che Amber from the library. 
BLANCHE, with her bouquet. 

I must delay no longer to put my flowers into water. 

MR. BONSOR. 

I beg you to come back then as soon as you've supplied 
them with a sustenance of which 1 decline to regard 
them as deserving. The member for Blackport — 

BLANCHE. 

What on earth does he want now ? 

MR. BONSOR. 
What you've never yet frankly given him — the chance 
to catch your eye. 

BLANCHE. 

Dear uncle, I'm not the Speaker ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

He'll make you feel like the House itself. And when 
the House divides — 

BLANCHE, laughing. 
I shall be in the right lobby ! (Then as she sees Pitt Bkunt : 
re-enter Pitt Dkunt by the lower door on the right.) I'll bc back ! 

E.\it Blanche Amdek by the lower door on the right. 



ACT THIRD 387 

PITT BRUNT, anxious. 

And where'll he be ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

It will be impossible henceforth to calculate with any 
exactness. Hitherto we've done it to a second. 

PITT BRUNT, aggrieved. 

You should really have taken him in hand ! 

MR. BONSOR. 

The way to begin was by taking that woman. 

PITT BRUNT, after a moment. 

That may possibly be the way to end ! 

MR. BONSOR, struck. 

It might be — all the more that she's somewhere about. 
(After an instant.) I suppose her attractions are pronounced. 

PITT BRUNT, prompt. 

Very easily, with a little practice ! 

MR. BONSOR, surprised. 

Then you've seen her ? 

PITT BRUNT, on his guard. 

Not to know it was she ! But if she's somewhere about, 
her confederate must also be. 



388 THE REPROBATE 

MR. BON SO R, at the lower door on the right. 

Thank heaven, he can't be in two places at once ! 

Exit Mr. BoNSOR. 
PITT BRUNT, alone. 
My only comfort ! (Then tliinking, bewildered.) Yct he 

behaves as if he wanted them both ! 

Re-enter Cubit from the hall. 
CUBIT, announcing. 

Mrs. Freshville ! 

Enter Mrs. Freshville. Exit Cubit. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You here still ? How d'ye do to-day ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

I never feel quite fit when I haven't put in my hour. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I've come to put in mine — I'm tired of messing about. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I heard just now you 2vere messing — 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, amazed. 

The man has the cheek to mention it ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Oh no, he doesn't mention it — but the whole thing's 
known. 



ACT THIRD 389 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, alert. 

Then how does the woman take it ? 

PITT BRUNT, deprecating. 

She's scarcely a woman — ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, impatient. 

I know — she's a monster ! What does she make of it ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

You're severe ! But she doesn't make quite so much of 
it as you might expect. She takes it rather easy. In 
fact you might suppose she almost likes it ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, astounded. 

Likes his goings on with me ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

Then they've been as bad as \\& all suppose ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

They've been beyond everything that ever was ! (With 
renewed stupefaction.) She likes his being engaged to another 
woman ? 

PITT BRUNT, surprised. 

Do you mean to say he's literally engaged ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

As much as a man ever was in the world. Engaged up 
to his eyes — engaged down to his boots ! 



I 



390 THE REPROBATE 

PITT BRUNT. 

Happily I don't think she knows that ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Then I shall have the pleasure of telling her ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

I daresay it will produce some effect. She doesn't mind 
anything except that. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Except marriage — or the next thing to it? And she 
calls herself a respectable woman ? 

PITT BRUNT, wincing ; after an instant. 

I'm bound to say she's very hard to shock. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Put it Stronger. She's a monster of what-do-you-call-it ! 

PITT BRUNT, at a loss. 

Do you call it paradox ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I call it immorality ! But wasn't I jolly right to come ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

Do you argue that he'll see you ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Not if he can help it ! But I argue that I'm perfectly 
visible. Where do you suppose he is ? 



ACT THIRD 391 

PITT BRUNT, looking at his watch ; melancholy. 

I'm afraid he's somewhere with her. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Don't take it harder than / do ! (After an instant.) Could 
you bring us together ? 

PITT BRUNT, vague. 

You and him ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Me and her. 

PITT BRUNT, disconcerted. 

Dear no — not that ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Well, you needn't scratch my eyes out! (Holding up several 
of Chanter'.s letters.) It will do quite as well to hand her 
these. His letters — nine of 'em — breathing every vow. 

PITT BRUNT, with the letters ; alert. 

Vows of passion — vows of marriage ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Vows of everything on earth — and every vow a lie. 
Poke 'em in her face. 

PITT BRUNT, intensely eager. 

I'll poke 'em ! But how can I ever thank you ? 



i 



392 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Thank me for nothing ! I didn't do it iox you ! (Then as 

CuuiT reappears : re-enter Cubit from tlic hall.) 1 hnt WclV ? 



PITT BRUNT, surprised. 

You're going off? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

I'm going on. (Up at the door to the hall.) Work her up ! 

Exeunt Mrs. Freshville and Cubit to the hall. 
PITT BRUNT, as Blanche reappears. 

I'll work her up ! 

Re-enter Blanche Amder by the lower door on the right. 
BLANCHE. 

My uncle has just told me you wish to catch my eye. 

PITT BRUNT. 

In order to direct it, Miss Amber, to unprecedented 
documents. 

BL.\NCHE, smiling. 

Parliamentary papers ? 

PITT BRUNT. 
Not exactly Blue Books ! (Giving her Mrs. Freshville's letters.) 

I place them in your hands. 

BLANCHE, with the letters, vague. 

You mean I'm to look them through ? But they're 

letters they're private. (Then after hastily glancing at a word here 

and there.) They're all about love ! 



I 



ACT THIRD 393 

PITT BRUNT. 

They're all about marriage — you'll easily see ! 

BLANCHE. 

I don't want to see — especially if they're yours ? 

PITT BRUNT. 

How can you think they're mine when you know my 
hand ? 

BLANCHE, with a look at the letters again. 

Yes — it's a better hand than yours ! (Then suddenly tossing 
them down.) But I nevcr read such stuff! 

PITT BRUNT. 

They may well bring the blush to your cheek, but I 
regret to be obliged to deepen it ! — You haven't seen 
that writing ? 



BLANCHE, with a letter that is out of its envelope, trying ineffectuallj' to 
remember, then suddenly catching sight of something. 

Oh yes, I recall a name ! 



PITT BRUNT, exultant. 

May I inquire what name? 

BLANCHE. 

The name that was on his photograph. 

. PITT BRUNT, struck. 

He has given you his photograph ? 



394 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE. 
Oh yes. That is he hasn't ! 

PITT BRUNT. 

But you recognise the writer ? 



Mr. Paul? 
Mr. Paul ! 
" Dudley " ! 
Dudley ? 



BLANCHE, troubled, uncertain. 

PITT BRUNT, triumphant. 

BLANCHE, with emotion, thinking. 

PITT BRUNT, vague. 



BLANCHE, after another glance at the open letters. 

It's the pet name. " To his Nina " ! 

PITT BRUNT, at the door of the library; impressive. 

Say, Madam, to his miserable victim ! 

Exit Pitt Brunt. 
BLANCHE, alone, agitated 

He makes victims — and makes them miserable ? (Hastily 

gathering the letters together.) WhO should knOW it better 

than I ? — But what has Mr. Brunt to do with these 
things — how did he ever get them ? He gave them to 
me as a warning ? (After an instant.) Miserable as I am, I 
reject the warning ! I'll give them back to the writer ! 

(Then as she sees Paui- and instinctively puts the letters behind her.) Oh, 

Mr. Paul, you're just the man — ! 



ACT THIRD 395 

Re-enter Paul Doubleday from the hall, in an elaborate change of costume. 
PAUL, anxious, flurried. 

You're just the woman, Miss Amber, but I'm trying to 
track the Captain. I've something special to say to him. 

Re-enter Captain Chanter from the hall. 
CHANTER, to Paul. 

I've just seen Cubit — he tells me you want me. 

BLANCHE, at the lower door on the right, to Paul, smiling. 

Then you don't want me I 

Exit Blanche Amber with the letters. 
PAUL, breathless. 

Mamma knows all — she has your letters ! 

CHANTER, appalled. 

Nina has been here ? 

PAUL. 

She is here — in my retreat. 

CHANTER, astonished. 

You've got one? 

PAUL. 

The Chinese room — I've taken it. She arrived — fear- 
fully out of patience — as I was on the very point of 
going to her, and I thought it best to have her right in. 
But she had already passed in the letters. She proclaims 
her vengeance on you as successfully accomplished, and 



396 THE REPROBATE 



< 



I left her there gloating over it to come and warn you.| 
The fat's on the fire— but I told her I can't oblige her. 

CHANTER, rueful, resentful. 

You can't oblige anybody ! So what the mischief is she 
waiting for? 

PAUL. 

For her photograph — I mean for mine. You broke 
your promise to carry it to her, and she declines to leave 
the house without it. 

CHANTER. 

How could I carry it to her when I couldn't find it? 

PAUL, looking blankly about. 

I'm in exactly the same predicament ! 

CHANTER, helpless, hopeless. 

So she's here for the rest of our lives ? 

PAUL, as Mrs. Doubleday reappears. 

I'm terribly afraid not ! 

Re-enter Mrs. Doubleday from the g.irden. Instantly astonished by the 
presence of Chanter, she hurries down toward him ; then, between the two 
men, stopping short, looks with sudden wonderment and suspicion from one 
of them to the other. 

CHANTER, embarrassed, confused, but trying to meet her. 

Dearest friend ! 



MRS. DOUBLED.-W, retaining, with resentment and severity, possession 
of the hand he tries to kiss. 

Your dearest friend has come to get you ! (Then as Chanter 



ACT THIRD 397 

exchanges with Paul a look of confirmed dismay.) YoU grOSSly dcsert 

your dearest friend ! 

CHANTER, collapsing, pleading. 

I know that my conduct has been dreadful — ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 
I must clear it up with you. (indicating the garden.) I'vC 

been perched there on the lookout. 

PAUL. 

His arrival happened to escape your notice — it has just 
taken place. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Long enough ago for me to remark that his first impulse 
has not been the impulse to fly to me. 

PAUL. 

He was in the very act of spreading his wings ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

It has come home to me since your own return that he 

spread them very wide in town. (Then to Chanter, while he 
exchanges with Paul another woeful regard.) YoU SeC the Condition 

in which your pupil has reappeared ? Your responsi- 
bilities sit very light ! 

PAUL. 
He has just been explaining to me that he has every 
intention to meet them. 



h^ 



39S THE RETROBATE 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

They have increased tremendously this morning, and 
shall presently hear from me on the subject. In the 
meantime he'll go to my room and ask my maid for a 
precious packet, conspicuous on the mantel-piece, sealed] 
with large red seals and containing papers of gravel 

importance. (To Chantek, who stands bewildered while Paul goes up! 

in agitation.) You'll take them straight to my boudoir, and 
we'll go through them together. (With high resolution.) ^Ve'll 
have it right over ! 

CHANTER, lingering, paralysed. 

I see what you mean ! 

PAUL, coming down again, with irrepressible authority. 

Then march ! 

Exit Chanter, startled, with a rush of desperation, to the hall. 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY, who has massively seated herself. 

What did you remark to him ? 

PAUL, familiar, gay. 

I remarked, my dear lady, that there's no resisting you ; 
and there evidently isn't, unless a fellow's like me. But, 
you know, I'm adamant, whereas the Captain's all fiddle- 
strings and moonbeams. (Then as she stares, astounded at his new 

tone.) There's one thing, however, you know — you 
mustn't, as I may say, presume, you mustn't stake every- 
thing, on the force — or, as you would perhaps yourself 
prefer to call it, the charm — of your certainly remarkable 
personality. You'll tell me it has seen you through often 



ACT THIRD 399 

enough to show you how far you can go ; and I fully 
recognise that time has given it those comfortable curves, 
those generous gradients over which the railroad of social 
intercourse may be laid at an expense not incompatible 
with the hope that it will pay. You can go a certain 
length, Mamma, you can achieve certain runs — but you 
can't make the time you did ! A road may be well kept 
up, but if you go in for heavy traffic you must lay your 
account with a smash. Don't therefore, as I say, don't 
magnify small accidents. Don't cry out about a collision 
when there has only been a casual bump ! (Laughing, 
flatttiing.) Your casual bumps, Mamma, certainly oughtn't 
to bruise ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, rising in stupefaction. 

You take advantage, sir, of the absence of the few pro- 
tectors I possess — ! 

PAUL, good-humoured, imperturbable. 

Only to enjoin upon you not to make too much of such 
things. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, after an instant. 

Of what things, I beg to know, are you indecent enough 
to speak ? 

PAUL. 

Why, for instance, of those trashy papers. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Pray, do you take into account their authorship ? 



400 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL. 
Ii's just their authorship that makes them mere hyper- 
bole ! , 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, after another moment. * 

\V\\\ you be so good as to tell me what you're talking 
about ? 

PAUL, surprised. 

The letters you sent the Captain for. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

What's your reason for calling them letters ? 

PAUL, checked, embarrassed. ^M 

I don't insist on the name. Outbursts of momentary 
ardour. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, very alert. 

Then / insist on the name ! — What abyss have you 
unguardedly opened ? 

PAUL, after an instant. 

\Vhat are the papers you are to go over with the Captain ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

Instructions from the late Mr. Doubleday — drawn up in 
view of the contingency which has now presented itself. 

PAUL. 
That of your chucking up his son ? 

MRS. DOUBLED.W. 

That of jour " chucking up " his widow ! 



ACT THIRD 



401 



PAUL, amused. 

Something seems to tell me the instructions are 

voluminous ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

I've every confidence. But it's a mystery I've always 
respected. The large red seals are intact. 

PAUL. 

And you propose to delegate to the Captain the office 
of breaking them ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

After first assuring myself that he is really worthy of it. 

(Then after an instant, abrupt, distressfully appealing, with a complete change 

oftone and manner.) Paul — IS he really worthy ? 

PAUL, laughing. 

Doesn't it strike you I'm an extraordinary person to ask? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You're the person who knows most about such things. 

PAUL. 

Let me inquire in turn what things you're talking about. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The horrible things men do. You've betrayed him — 
and he has betrayed himself. 

PAUL. 

I've never betrayed anybody, and I can promise you I 
never will ! We'll respect the mystery of the late Mr. 

VOL. II 2D 



402 THE REPROBATE 

Doubleday's instructions — we'll keep our hands from 
the large red seals. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

You practically proclaim, then, that the Captain's are 

impure ? (With another outburst of entreaty.) Paul, who IS the 

woman to whom he has been writing ? (Then as Paul throws 

up his arms in embarrassed repudiation.) I'll draw yOU a chcCJUC 

for half the amount of your bills. 

PAUL. 
Thirty-five pounds ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. ■ 

Four and ninepence ha'penny — if you'll tell me the truth. 

PAUL, thinking. 

The real truth ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, ardent. 

The whole truth ! 

PAUL, after another moment. 

Not for the money I 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, indignant, flouncing off. 

I'll get it from him ! 

E.xit Mrs. DouBLEDAY to the hall. 

PAUL, .^lone, disconcerted. 
She'll break with him ! (Then, alarmed, as Mr. Bonsor reappears : 
re-enter Mr. Bonsor by the lower door on the right.) Mf. BonSOr, Will 

she break with him ? 



ACT THIRD 403 

MR. BONSOR. 
My ungovernable niece ? I'm sorry to have to recognise 
that she has already practically done so. She has 
levelled against my young friend an accusation under 
the effect of which I have fairly staggered from her 
presence — an accusation of conduct — 

PAUL, as he can't bring it out. 

Unparliamentary ? What has he done ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

I am just looking for him to inquire. (Then as he sees 

Chanter : re-enter Captain Chanter from the garden.) Have yOU SCCn 

the member for Blackport ? 

CHANTER. 
He's in the garden. (Agitated, blanched, to Paul as Mr. Bonsor 

goes up.) I can't do it ! 

PAUL. 
She hasn't got them ! 

Re-enter Mrs. Doubleday from the hall. 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, with a large sealed packet and with energy, as 
Chanter moves quickly away from Paul and she sees Mr. Bonsor going. 

Mr. Bonsor ! (Then as he obediently comes down with her.) Be 

present ! That's more, apparently, than Captain 
Chanter had courage to be ! 

PAUL. 

Dear Mamma, he has come back for you. 



404 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. DOURI.EDAY. 
I've come back for Jlivi ! (Then having looked hard from one of 
them to the other; holdhig out her packet to Chanter.) Break thoSC 

seals ! (To Mr. BoNsoR.) The instructions. 

MR. BONSOR. 
A new lot ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

For the new crisis. The supreme measures. 

MR. BONSOR, complacent. 

Our second line of defence ! 

PAUL. 

Abandon, Captain, your second line. We'll dispense 
with the supreme measures. (Then as Chan-ter stares.) 
Touch the seals at your peril. Give me the packet. 

CHANTER, with his packet ; tormented, perplexed, to Mrs. Doubleday. 

What will be the penalty, love, of my surrendering my 
precious charge ? 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

The inevitable inference that you have reasons for 

grovelling before your pupil. (Afteraninstant; formidable.) 

He has seen the fatal letters. 

MR. BONSOR, blank but prompt. 

Where are they to be seen ? 



ACT THIRD 405 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY. 

That's exactly what I want to know ! Paul doesn't 
deny the impeachment. 

CHANTER, scandalised, tossing his packet to a table. 

Then I call upon him instantly to do so. (To Paul.) 
What letters does your mother mean ? 

PAUL, after a moment. 
I let the cat out of the bag ! (Then as Pitt Brunt reappears.) 

The fatal letters exist ! 

Re-enter Pitt Brunt from the garden. 
PITT BRUNT, struck, coming quickly down as Blanche reappears. 

The fatal letters exist ! 

Re-enter Blanche Amber by the lower door on the right. 
CHANTER, amazed, to Pitt Brunt. 

How the devil, sir, do yon know ? 

PITT BRUNT, arrested, conciliatory. 

I hasten to explain, sir, that I don't attribute them to 
you ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, astonished. 

Then to whom in the world do you attribute them ? 

BLANCHE, precipitate, very loud. 

Ahem ! 



4o6 THE REPROBATE 

PAUL, while the others stare in surprise at her ambiguous ejaculation. 

I'll save Mr. Brunt the trouble of saying. (After a moment.) 
The fatal letters are mine ! 

MRS. DOUBLED AY, blank. 

Then who in the world has them ? 

BLANCHE, passing close to Pitt Brunt ; privately, with ferocity. 

Say at your peril ! 

PAUL, to Mrs. DOUBLEDAY. 

I thought they had come into your hands. (Then indicating 
Chanter.) Take him away to beg his pardon. 

CHANTER, to Mrs. Doubledav, smiling. 

Naughty doubting dear ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, breathing again, but severe. 

Naughty frightening man ! 

PAUL, impatient; motioning them off. 

Oh, make it up somewhere else ! 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, startled, giving ground, but hesitating. 

Without the instructions ? 

PAUL. 

You evidently require no teaching ! (Then highly authoritative.) 
Go! 



ACT THIRD 407 

MRS. DOUBLEDAY, who has hurried up ; to Chanter, at the door 
to the hall. 

Come ! 

Exit Mrs. DOUBLEDAY. 

CHANTER, uneasy ; privately to Paul. 

But the letters ? 

PAUL, 
I'll find them ! 

CHANTER, up at the door to the hall ; aloud. 

Reprobate ! 

Exit Captain Chanter. 

PAUL, at the left ; peremptory, to Mr. BoNSOR and Pitt Brunt, who have 
been conversing down at the right. 

Leave me alone with Miss Amber ! 

BLANCHE. 
I require to be alone with Mr. Paul. 

MR. BONSOR. 

You will neither of you have forgotten that / wish to be 
alone — 

PAUL. 

With the member for Blackport ? So do I ! But I'll 
take him later. 

PITT BRUNT. 

I shall suffer nothing to blind me to the fact that I have 
still my hour to put in. 



4oS THE REPROBATE 

MR. BONSOR. 
On the water ? You can take me out — I'll join you 

directly in the garden. (Then to Paul, while Pitt Bkunt, intensely 
preoccupied, approaches Blanche.) Reprobate ! 

Exit Mr. BoNSOR to the hall. 

PITT BRUNT, to Blanche. 

You accept the shocking evidence ? 

BLANCHE. 

Of an existing connection ? — I accept everything ! 

PITT BRUNT, up at the window, scandalised. 

I call it immorality ! 

E.\it Pitt Brunt to the garden. 
BLANCHE, to Paul. 

I daresay it is ; but I forgive you. 

PAUL, vague. 

For saying such a thing ? 

BLANCHE. 

For doing it ! / have the letters ! 

PAUL, amazed. 

How in the world — ? 

BLANCHE. 
In my room — from Mr. Brunt. 



I 



ACT THIRD 409 

PAUL, bewildered. 

How did Mr. Brunt get them ? 

BLANCHE. 

I give it up ! But I'm keeping them for you. 

PAUL, anxious. 

Don't " keep " them — bring them to me ! (Then checking her 
as she is going.) But there's Something you can keep for me. 

(Placing in her hands the sealed packet.) Keep this ! 

BLANCHE, with the packet, exalted, at the lower door on the right. 

To the death ! 

Exit Blanche Amber. Re-enter Mrs. Freshville from the hall. 
PAUL, nervous, curt. 

I've been too busy to come back to you — and I'm too 
busy to converse with you now ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You're a very superior person, Dud ; but you can be 
awfully nasty when you like. You know I've declined 
to leave the house without that memento — doubly dear 
to me now — of our brighter and happier hours. Your 
precious photo has been appropriated, and after very 
patiently and very vainly \vaiting there for you to recover 
it for me, I demand here the production of my property. 

PAUL. 

Accept as a substitute, my dear Nina, the assurance 
that I'll be taken again ! 



4IO THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESH VI LLE. 

What I desire, Dudley, is the representation of your 
more juvenile and — since you force me to say so — your 
more attractive personality. 

PAUL, alarmed, as Pitt Brunt reappears. 

Don't bring it up — there's some one there ! 

Re-enter Pitt Brunt from the garden. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

You gave her the letters ? 

PITT BRUNT, embarrassed. 

She has them in her hands. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

And what does she say about the shocking evidence — 

PITT BRUNT. 

Of an existing connection ? She accepts it. She accepts 
everything ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, stupefied. 

Everything ? Then she's a cat ! 

PITT BRUNT, emphatic. 

She's a cat ! 

PAUL, smiling. 
No she's only a woman in love ! (To Pitt Brunt, who stands 

blank.) Have you come back for something ? 






ACT THIRD 411 

PITT BRUNT. 

For Mr. Bonsor — to put in my hour. 
PAUL. 

I daresay he's dressing. (Then with a happy thought ; inspired.) 

Put it in with Mrs. Freshville ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, struck. 

On the river — the dear old river ? 

PITT BRUNT, struck. 
I put in an hour each day. (After an instant, engaging.) Coiild 

you give me as much as that ? 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, looking from Pitt Brunt to Paul. 

By-bye ? 

PAUL. 

By-bye ! 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, giving her reticule to Pitt Brunt. 

Stick it in the boat. 

PITT BRUNT, alert, with the reticule ; up at the window, to Paul. 

Patch it up with Mr. Bonsor ! 

E.\it Pitt Brunt to the garden. 
MRS. FRESHVILLE, after a moment ; thoughtful. 

Not engaged ? 

PAUL. 

I can answer for that ! 



412 THE REPROBATE 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

Much of a swell ? 

PAUL, handing her from the table the copy of the "^ society-paper." 

The papers are full of him. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, with the cartoon. 

" The Idol of the North " ! 

PAUL. 
The young man of the hour. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE. 

]\Iore than ever you were ! By-bye. 

PAUL. 

By-bye. 

MRS. FRESHVILLE, with the copy of the paper under her arm ; up 
at the window, contemptuous, sarcastic. 

Perfection ! 

Exit Mrs. Frf.siiville to the garden 
Re-enter Captain Chanter from the hall. 

CHANTER, an.^ious. 

Has she rane ? 



PAUL, coming down from the window, indicating the garden, while Chanter, 
interrogative, goes up, and Blanche and Mr. Bonsor reappear. 



She has found an opening ! 



ACT THIRD 413 

Re-enter Blanche Amber by the lower door on the right. Re-enter Mr. 
BoNSOR, in boating costume, from the hall. 

BLANCHE, with Mrs. Freshville's letters, eager, to Paul. 

Here are the letters ! 

CHANTER, struck, turning, bounding down to grab them. 

Mine ! 

PAUL, smiling, having seized them first. 

Mine ! 

CHANTER, to Blanche, resentful. 

You should have given them to me ! 

BLANCHE. 

They belong to the writer. 

CHANTER. 

He's not the writer ! 

BLANCHE, aghast, to Paul. 

You're not the writer ? 

PAUL. 

I blush to confess it — I'm so much less bad than you 
want me ! 

CHANTER. 

He took them on himself to save his friend. 

BLANCHE, struck, eager. 

He told a glorious lie ? 

PAUL, laughing, while he tosses Chanter the packet of letters. 

Don't mention it ! 



J 



414 THE REPROBATE 

BLANCHE, overjoyed. 

But I don't want you any worse than that ! 

MR. BONSOR, to Ch.-^nter. 

Are you very sure his friend is saved ? 

PAUL. 
Not if you basely blab, Mr. Bonsor. 

CHANTER, confident, complacent. 

Oh, he may basely blab ! (After an instant.) I'm sure ! 

MR. BONSOR, to Blanche. 

But where did you get them ? 

BLAT^CHE. 

From the member for Blackport. 

MR. BONSOR, blank. 

And where did he get them ? 

PAUL. 

From the lady to whom they were addressed. 



MR. BONSOR, startled. 

Nina — the unspeakable Nina? (indignant.) He never 
went near her ! 

PAUL. 

He's remarkably near her now — he's out on the river 
with her ! 



ACT THIRD 415 

MR. BONSOR, stupefied. 

Then it was for him the woman came ? 

PAUL. 

She came for a certain photograph ! 

MR. BONSOR, struck. 

I remember ! (Looking ineffectually round.) What on earth 
became of it ? 

BLANCHE, producing it from her pocket. 

Here it is ! 

MR. BONSOR, to the others, amazed. 

She had it all the while ? 

BLANCHE, embarrassed, hesitating. 

I took it because — because — 

PAUL, radiant. 

You must keep the reason for me ! 

BLANCHE. 

May I tell him, uncle ? 

MR. BONSOR. 

Tell him what you like ! (Then looking at her a moment in be- 
wildered abstraction, raising and dropping his arms at his sides in helpless and 
humiliated renunciation and going up.) The Idol of the North ! 

PAUL, ardent, triumphant, with his two hands out. 

Blanche ! 



1' 



4l6 THE REPROBATE 



BLANCHE, meeting him in happy freedom while he takes both her hands and 
respectfully kisses them. 

Paul! 

Re-enter Mrs. Doubleday from the hall. 
MRS. DOUBLEDAY, startled, instinctive, loud, as before. 

Paul! 

CHANTER, eager, as the others, absorbed, pay-no attention. 
It's all right ! (Then, irresistible, as Mrs. Doubledav surrenders herself 
to his endearment.) Bcloved ! 

PAUL, suddenly observing, good-naturedly but loudly and ominously warning, 
while Mrs. Doubleday gives a violent .start. 

Mamma ! 






THE END 



Prhitcdhy'^ & V,. Cl.\-RK, Edinlurgfi. 



31|77-2 



